Introduction
by Known Unknowns
Summary: When teenager Anya Carhart unexpectedly finds herself in the world of House, will she be able to save her hero from the not-so-bright future ahead of him? Spoilers for all eight seasons. On hiatus for the summer. Chapter 17: "Thank you, I needed someone to send burning meteors towards my parade."
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction: A House MD Fanfiction**

**Chapter 1**

_Author's Note: Here we go, folks... the story I've been working on for oh so long but have been oh so nervous to share. Three things before we start our journey: THIS IS NOT A SELF INSERT! It's in first person, but Anya is an OC. Secondly, thank you to my Beta, Wolfpack pride, for letting me know that I'm not completely crazy and making sure my grammar was spot on! Thirdly, this story contains very mild religious themes. _

_Disclaimer: Anya is mine, but the rest I'm just borrowing..._

* * *

The last hints of the hot summer were fading, soon to be replaced by the cool and windy gusts of fall. It was my intention to enjoy the last day of my freedom before my ass got tossed back in school for my last year.

I wasn't as distraught about going back to school as usual, this year. After all, I had already been accepted to university, so I could pretty much just skim through senior year without much worry. Still, _not _being in school was always a better alternative to _being_ in school.

I walked out onto my deck, basking in the sunlight as it hit my tanned skin. My Irish heritage would catch up soon, and I'd be pale as a ghost by picture day. Right now, however, my usually alabaster skin was bronze, and my dark brown hair two shades lighter than usual. My bangs were brightened to the point of almost being blond.

My mom had laid out a towel for me as usual, so I laid it down on our deck where I usually sun bathed, and then grabbed my float from the pool supply shed. I planned to spend the entire day out in the pool, and was grateful that the sun was out. As the nights cooled, so too did our pool temperature, and swimming in a freezing pool on an overcast day wasn't exactly my idea of fun.

I tossed my float into the pool. I took several steps back, doing my usual routine of diving headfirst into the water instead of slowly lowering myself so I could get used to the temperature. I liked the invigorating rush of suddenly being submerged in frigid water.

My bare feet smacked against the burning deck as I raced towards the pool. Launching forward, I parted the water easily, the cool water rejuvenating me.

Suddenly, a weird sensation hit me, like I was being flipped upside down. For a long moment, I felt weightless, and not the way you sometimes feel when you're floating in a pool. Like my body had lost all substance. I was an ethereal being, unable to be seen or touched...

Then I wasn't. The water was back, and if I could have breathed a sigh of relief, I would have. I was flat on my stomach on the bottom of the pool, and there were strange objects under me. I groped around blindly with my hands, not wanting to open my eyes to the assault of chlorine. I picked one of the pieces up. _A penny?_

And if the sudden appearance of loose change on the bottom of my pool wasn't enough to mystify me, it also seemed that my pool had gotten about twenty degrees warmer. When I pushed myself off the bottom and went to swim to the surface, I also found it was about five feet shallower. I got up on my knees and my head broke through the water, and suddenly a blustery wind smacked into my face, causing me to shiver.

My pool... was gone. I was... I honestly had no idea where I was.

For starters, I now understood the presence of change, as it seemed I was in a fountain.

_What the hell?_

I surveyed the area around me, completely lost. Did I fall asleep on the float or something?

It was the only explanation I could come up with. I was either asleep or hallucinating, and since the first option was more comforting, I stuck with that one. I was fairly confident in my sanity.

I looked around at the buildings and paved walkways, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been here before. The trees were bare, despite the fact it wasn't even fall yet.

This _looked _familiar... where was I?

And then I saw the very, _very _familiar building in the distance.

Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was a few miles' walk away, which could only mean that I was on the Princeton University campus. For a second I was shocked, but then rationality beat it down and I rolled my eyes as I stepped out of the fountain. Another House dream. Although I was lucid and it was more realistic than usual, it was the only explanation.

My body was drenched, and the cold air made me shake with cold. I was clad in only my red bikini, and if I was outside in the dreary overcast weather much longer dressed like this, I'd become hypothermic.

_But this is just a dream, so does it really matter?_

I sighed, pinching myself. I was freezing my butt off, and this wasn't like the typical House dream I would have, and by that I meant it was lame and had a distinct lack of a shirtless Chase.

Although I pinched myself hard, I remained on the Princeton campus. This made no logical sense... I closed my eyes hard, trying to will myself out of the dream, but I remained where I was.

"Okay." I said, talking to myself like I always did in bad situations. "Let's assume for now that this isn't a drugged out trip to wonderland, and it isn't a dream." I was trying to keep from panicking. I imagined my mother coming outside to join me for a swim, and seeing me gone, nowhere to be seen. "Calm down." I chastised myself.

Roughly one hundred feet away was what I determined to be the campus store, and lights on inside indicated it was open. Eyes glancing around and hoping no one would see me in my current state, I raced forward as fast as I could.

When I reached the doors of the shop, I pressed them open, poking my head inside. It was empty except for a bored looking girl sitting at the counter reading a copy of Reader's Digest. I debated on what to do, not wanting the awkward questions the girl would ask that I wouldn't be able to answer.

That's when I saw the date on the Reader's Digest.

November, 2004.

Shocked, I tumbled forward, drawing the girl's attention.

"The hell?" She exclaimed. I jumped up, adjusting my bikini to make sure none of my more private areas were exposed. I decided that since she had already seen me, there was no point in hiding now. I walked up to the desk, breathing hard, and leaned. She looked at me like I was from a different planet.

"I'm sorry, I'm- just- what's the date?" I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth. The girl raised her eyebrow at me. She was a typical college age girl. Blond hair, mascara, lipstick and an expression that said "I've got to get money to party somewhere."

"November sixteenth, why?" She asked. "And why are you half naked and wet?" Ignoring my urge to make a dirty joke, I leaned forward.

"What year?" I asked. It was worrying enough that apparently I had missed three months somehow (still working under the assumption that this was real), but I needed to know how much my reality had been distorted. She once again gave me a look like I was insane.

"2004. You okay, kid?"

2004.

November 16th, 2004.

That date was incredibly familiar, and took me only a moment to recognize it. _That was the date House first premiered in the US. _Being a dedicated fan, I obviously had memorized that.

If it weren't for the fact that I was in Princeton, I would write it off as a coincidence. But here I was, on the day it all started, only a short distance away from where the show took place.

I had to figure out what was going on, but first and foremost I needed some clothes.

"Listen, my name's Anya Carhart, you're not going to believe me if I tell you the whole story, but here's how it is: I'm lost, very lost, and I have no money. I need clothes. That's it, just clothes. Then I'll leave. Please, I really need your help." I pleaded with the girl behind the counter.

She looked at me, chewing on the inside of her cheek, unsure what to do by the looks of it. I'm short for my age, only clocking in at 5' 4", and I hoped that my shivering, small form would inspire some pity and proceeding kindness from the stranger. She sighed, reaching behind the counter. She tossed me a gray Princeton sweatshirt and a pair of light purple sweats. She tossed in a pair of worn down running shoes as well.

"Here, take these. They're old anyway**, **and I was just going to get rid of them. Should fit you okay." My mouth fell open as I took the clothes from her.

"Th-thank you." I stammered my thanks, still freezing. "Is there a bathroom I can use to change in?" I asked. She nodded and pointed to the other end of the store. I rushed to the bathroom as quickly as I could, and as soon as I was inside, I darted into a stall and slammed the door shut. Obviously since I had no bra or underwear, I'd have to keep the bikini on, but at least I could smother myself in the slightly too big sweatshirt and sweat pants.

I tugged them on as quickly as I could, relishing in the warmth they provided. Taking a deep breath, I leaned my head against the wall, trying to think.

I was eight years back in time. I had only been nine when House premiered, but here I was, seventeen and a short distance from where technically, the fictional diagnostician's first televised case should be taking place.

It could be a complete coincidence, the date and location I had been transported to.

But I don't believe in coincidences.

There was really only one thing to do at this point. I had to see if my suspicions were correct, and the only way to do that was a trip to Princeton Plainsboro.

I walked out of the bathroom and headed towards the door. I looked to the girl behind the counter.

"Thank you for your help... and please, don't tell anyone that I was here." I said. I didn't want her to call the police the minute I was out the door. Once I figured out what the hell was going on, I'd decide what to do then. I wanted the ball in my field. The girl behind the counter nodded.

"Good luck, kid, whatever you're doing." I gave her a small smiled and departed. Outside, it looked like a storm was brewing, as indicated by the dark sky. I looked off into the distance at the hospital. It was time to get some answers.

**xxxxxx**

I stood in front of the glass entrance doors of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. This was... surreal. It was just like it looked on the outside in the show, and from what I could see of the inside, that too was identical.

I had a feeling my suspicions were going to be confirmed once I was inside. One look at the Dean's office right inside the reception area, and I'd know if what I suspected was true.

I pursed my lips and opened the doors, excusing my way through a crowd of people heading for either reception or the clinic.

I looked to my left, checking the name on the door. Of course, the blinds were open, so I didn't need to read the name to identify the woman inside. It was a nearly ten years younger Lisa Cuddy.

I sagged against the wall, trying not to look as shocked as I felt.

_I'm in a different universe... House's universe..._

Panicking, I gripped the gold cross around my neck that I never took off. I was in a different _universe_. Why? How?

_Calm down, calm down._ I told myself. I needed to figure out what to do fast. Right now, I needed to disregard how I had gotten here. _Why_ was I here?

I supposed some weird universal portal could have formed and I could have fallen through, thus affirming the theory that there were other universes, I guess, but for a Christian, the first explanation as to why I was here went out to the guy upstairs.

Had God sent me here for a reason? _There's a reason for everything. _I answered myself.

There were several logical, reasonable courses of action I could take from here. I could contact the police, the government, scientists, and figure out what the hell had happened.

Yet none of them seemed like they had solved anything. Firstly, I needed to find out if my family and I even existed in this universe. Actually, that might be secondly.

Firstly, I needed to find House.

I was in the House MD universe, quite obviously. So, it seemed like an obvious step to find the man the universe was so named after.

I began striding toward the elevator, knowing House's office wasn't on the first floor. To be truthful, I never figured out whether it was on the second or third floor. I winged it when I reached the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. Luckily, the elevator was empty. I didn't look too fantastic right now, in the old beat up running shoes and casual outfit. I pulled up my sweats and straightened my sweat shirt, privately cursing that the first time I met my hero I was going to look like _this_.

The elevator doors opened, and a hallway was revealed. Nope, I recognized this place. It was the Oncology ward. House and Wilson's office must be on the third floor. I didn't even bother getting out of the elevator.

However, someone joined me in the elevator, and when I saw him, my heart skipped more than a couple of beats.

A young and handsome James Wilson stepped into the elevator and gave me a courteous smile as he pressed the button for the third floor, patient file in hand.

I gaped at him. I hadn't watched a season one episode (or Dead Poets Society, for that matter) in a long time, and I forgot how adorable he was when he was younger. Don't get me wrong, Wilson was always handsome, he was just a little fresher in season one.

He noticed me staring, and raised a dark eyebrow at me.

"Can I help you with something?"

The fangirl in me was screaming her head off, but I forced myself to stay calm. My plan so far was to convince House that I really was from another universe, and seek his help. House was just going to tell Wilson anyway no doubt, and if I could convince Wilson, who was marginally less suspicious and disbelieving than House, maybe he could help me persuade the diagnostician...

"Your name is James Wilson." I said. "You're on your third marriage, your wives being Sam, Bonnie, and Julie, in that order. Things are rocky with Julie, and she hates the color green. You like the Village People, old movies, and have two brothers. You paint your toenails and blow dry your hair." I said, all the essentially useless trivia I'd acquired from religiously watching the show tumbled out of my mouth. Wilson's brown eyes widened at me, and his jaw went slack. I decided to press on. "Listen, I'm from a different universe where your life is a TV show. Well, not your life, but House's, and since you're House's best friend, you're in it. I know this sounds insane, but I must have fallen through some portal or something and now I'm here and I need to figure out what I'm going to do."

Wilson looked at me for a few long moments before cracking a smile.

"House is really running out of ideas for pranks." He said, shaking his head as the door opened. I sighed, running out after him and lightly grabbing his arm.

"Please," I begged, searching for something Wilson hadn't told House at this point in the timeline. I was glad it was season one, or else this would be a lot more difficult. "you have a brother named Danny. He's schizophrenic. He stopped taking his medication in college because you hung up on him when you had to study. You've only seen him once since then, and that was in Princeton. That's why you accepted the job so eagerly when House mentioned it, because you think he may still be in the area. And you never told House any of this, so there's no way he could have told me. In fact, I'm pretty sure you've never told anyone what drove Danny to run away... and of course there's the fact that I know you still blame yourself for it. It's one of the reason's you're so unfailingly kind and affable, or at least try to be."

I took a deep breath as I finished, hoping desperately I had convinced Wilson I wasn't just someone House had hired to prank him.

We stood in the middle of the third floor hallway, Wilson's office several paces away. He glanced from me to his office door and back again.

"I think we should talk." I said, pointing to his office. Wilson tensed before tersely nodding his head.

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_Author's Note: Okay, I don't know how close PPTH is to Princeton, so I just assumed it was nearby. I'll post a chapter once a week on Mondays, in honor of the show. Review, pretty please?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Author's Note: Alrighty kids, here's chapter two. A bit complicated, but I hope you like it anyway. Thanks for all the support and feedback so far._

_Disclaimer: Anya is mine, but I'm just borrowing the rest._

* * *

_"I think we should talk." I said, pointing to his office. Wilson tensed before tersely nodding his head._

"Alright." He said quietly, leading the way towards his office. I couldn't help but glance towards the glass walls of House's office and the differentials room, the place that I knew so well, although only through a TV screen. Wilson opened his door and walked into is office, holding the door open fo me. I followed in after him, and my heart fluttered as we arrived in the familiar office. I shrugged slightly to myself and took House's usual place on the couch, crossing my legs and looking at Wilson.

"Please tell me I at least have you slightly persuaded. To my knowledge, you've never told anyone about Danny... maybe your parents or something, but they were never on the show..." I broke off. Wilson was leaning on his desk, confusion coloring his demeanor. "Listen, all I know is in my world, you're a TV character. And now I'm talking face to face with you. I'm from the year 2012, which is coincidentally the year the show ends, and now I'm suddenly back in 2004. I'm not scamming you, I'm lost and scared, and if my suspicions are correct, the only people in the world I know are in this hospital. Well, I don't technically know you, but I know a lot about you." I said, grinning sheepishly. "I was a pretty dedicated fan." Wilson continued to stare at me. _Oh no. He thinks I'm crazy._

"How old are you?" Wilson asked, crossing his arms.

"Almost eighteen." I said quickly. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"The sad thing is, I think a little part of me believes you. I've never told anyone what happened between Danny and I... or how I felt afterwards. I don't understand how you could know that." He said, shaking his head slightly. "But you do realize you're expecting me to believe that you're from a different universe, right? And the fact that apparently I'm a fictional character in a TV show in said universe?"

"I know, it's insane, but I can prove it!" I said. I scratched the back of my head. "Well, I mean, the Danny thing kind of proves it, but I've got more. Just get House in here, okay? I need help. Convincing you guys is the only way to get that help." I explained, my eyes darting to the caduceus pillow on Wilson's couch. I always thought that thing was cool. Wilson looked conflicted before pulling out his pager.

"He's with his team, I'll page him here." He said, looking worried as he tapped on his pager. He pocketed it again. "So what's this supposed parallel universe like?" He asked.

"Pretty much the same as this one, from what I've seen so far. I guess just different people exist. I actually need to check up on that theory..." I said, trailing off. "Wilson, can I please use your computer?" I asked sweetly, not wanting someone I've always admired to think I was impolite. He cocked and eyebrow.

"Why did you just call me Wilson?" He asked.

"Um, sorry, it's just what everyone on the show calls you. No one ever calls you James other than your wives, and only your patients call you Dr. Wilson, but if you want me to call you that I will. Sorry." I apologized, cheeks flushing. He waved me off.

"Nah, it doesn't matter. You can use my computer." He said, proffering his chair to me. _I get to sit in Wilson's chair! _The fan girl in me squeaked.

I sat down in the leather chair, quickly opening up an Internet browser that was much slower than what I was used to. _Well, I am eight years in the past, so I guess that shouldn't really surprise me._

My father's name was on the website for the Harrisburg State Museum, since he was a security guard there. It listed him in the employees section of the page, and the website had existed since the late nineties, which was when my father started working there. His name would be on the page if the same people existed in House's universe that existed in my universe.

I checked the website. No sign of my dad.

I checked for my older brother's Facebook. He was sixteen in 2004. He had a Facebook.

My brother's Facebook didn't exist. I searched my name as well, my mother's, my grandmothers, and several of my other family members. It seemed as though none of the people who existed in my world existed in House's, except for a few. I checked a gossip site, and they still spoke of most of the stars that they had before. Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and the like. I focused, trying to figure out what dictated what existed and what didn't in the House universe.

_Anything ever mentioned or quoted in House must exist... but I would bet my life that anyone who guest starred on House or any of the usual actors don't exist here. Same goes for anyone involved with the creation or production as well._

Within five minutes, it was clear that in this world, Hugh Laurie, Robert Sean Leonard, Lisa Edelstein, and the rest of the House cast did not exist. A few more clicks found that David Shore and Katie Jacobs were nonexistent as well.

_Wait a minute, what about Dead Poets Society? That was referenced in the show, but Robert Sean Leonard was in it._

I typed in the name. The movie existed, but a different person played Neil.

Guest stars... I typed in a few of the more notable ones. Mos Def, LL Cool J, Tyler James Williams, David Morse, Chi McBride... nope, no sign of any of them. Anyone who ever starred on House officially didn't exist in this world, and I suppose no people I had ever met existed here either. My head ached... this was confusing as all hell.

"Who is 'LL Cool J'?" Wilson asked, leaning over my shoulder to look at what I was searching. I sighed.

"He was a rapper who guest starred on the season two premiere." I explained. "He doesn't exist, just like anyone who was ever acted on the show." I said, leaning back in his chair. "Crap!" I explained suddenly. Wilson looked at me, startled.

"What?" He asked. I frowned.

"This means that NCIS and the Mentalist don't exist in this world."

"What?"

"House's patient this week, Rebecca Adler, the girl you're pretending is your cousin but she really isn't... the actress who played her in my world was named Robin Tunney, and she was on one of my favorite shows called the Mentalist, and the girl who plays Nora in season six-" I broke off, frowning. "Never mind, it really doesn't matter."

"How did you know she wasn't really my cousin?" Wilson asked.

"Wilson, I'm not trying to con you... I watched this show for nearly nine years. I know almost everything of importance that happens to you, House, Cameron, Foreman, Chase and Cuddy for the next decade, pretty much." I informed him. He once again looked like he wanted to believe me, but the basic laws of the universe prevented him from doing so.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and House walked in.

"Wilson, considering you're the one that pawned the patient off on me, you really shouldn't be interrupting-" He broke off when he saw me, leaning on his cane as he tilted his head an observed me. "Getting them a bit young now, aren't we?" He asked.

I just... stared. Greg. House. Greg. Fucking. House. Was in front of me. Was looking at me. The blue eyes I had seen staring out of my TV a hundred thousand times were now looking at me.

He looked like his usual season one self. His hair and beard both brown, with no hints of gray. His wrinkles were less defined, and he had the first cane he started with. I had died and gone to fan girl heaven.

I wanted to just sit in awe for a few more years, but I snapped out of it, trying to collect myself.

"House, I'm married, and you're disgusting." Wilson retorted, standing up and taking a step back from me. His eyes darted to me. "You should explain, since I'm still trying to grasp the fact that you might not be completely insane."

I smiled, unable to help myself. "Don't worry Wilson, convincing House will be much, _much_easier." Upon trying to create a persuasive argument to use on House, I found a trump card, something that no one in PPTH knew until season eight...

"Trying to convince me of what?" House asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Trying to convince you that I'm not only from the future, but also from a different universe where your life is the subject of a TV show." I said simply. House's shining blue eyes bored into me.

"Uh-huh. Wilson, you really need to tell the people in the psych ward to lock up a bit better."

"Just listen to her, House." Wilson said. "She... knows things."

"Like what?" House asked, rolling his eyes.

"You have a birthmark on your penis." I said, smirking. "And one on your scalp too, if that matters." House's eyes widened for a moment before he retorted.

"That doesn't prove you're from the future, it proves you've talked to one of around three hundred prostitutes or my mother."

"Or Stacy." Wilson pointed out.

"I did not talk to Stacy. And yes, I know who Stacy is. Stacy Warner, constitutional lawyer and your ex girlfriend. You lived together for five years. Your infarction ruined your relationship... or, arguably, the decisions she made regarding your infarction ruined your relationship." I said. "And yeah, I guess I could have got that from talking to Stacy, Wilson, or Cuddy... but that doesn't explain how I know about the one on your scalp. To my knowledge, you never shaved your head. It also doesn't explain why I know that you think a friend of your family is really your dad, not your father, because he too has that birthmark on his scalp. You figured that out when you were twelve. When you told your father, he didn't talk to you for a whole summer, except for a few notes under your door."

House's jaw was slack now, and I knew I was getting to him. I couldn't give him the chance to speak. I had to press on. "Your father's name is John, your mother's name is Blythe. You're an only child. You decided you wanted to be a doctor when you were fourteen years old and your friend got an infection after a climbing accident, and he was cured by a Baraku doctor. The other doctors didn't accept him, they didn't think he had anything they wanted... but he was right. And that's all that mattered. Just like that's all that matters to you. Or so you'd like people to believe. I personally think you care about your patients, but that's just my opinion."

House was silent when I finished. I didn't know how many people House had told his reasons for becoming a doctor to, but I know that he didn't tell Wilson yet. That didn't happen until season three, and Wilson didn't know about the birth mark on his scalp until season five, the one on his more private parts until season eight.

Hopefully I had at least confused House enough for him to start to buy my story. He ran his tongue along the inside of his top lip and limped forward, leaning on the front of Wilson's desk.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked, eyes flashing with equal parts interest and frustration.

"My name's Anya." I said. "And I think I was sent here for a reason." I stood up, leaning forward so I was face to face with my hero, my idol, and undeniably my childhood crush. "I know everything that's going to happen to you and the people you care about for the next eight years or so, and I think... I think I'm here to make sure that your life turns out less shitty." I felt brave, facing House head on like this, when I was resisting the urge to either cower from the unbelievable command and energy the man projected, or to let my inner House fan jump across the desk and bear hug him.

"Yeah, well, showing up before my leg got mutilated and I got addicted to pain pills might have been a nice idea." He stood up. "So what do you want, oh mystical being from an alternate universe?" He asked sarcastically, throwing in a mocking bow for effect.

"I need help. I need a lot of things. I'm alone here, and technically I don't exist." I said. "Oh, by the way, I feel bad for distracting you from your patient, so just letting you know, Rebecca has Neurocysticercosis. She got a tapeworm from eating poorly cooked pork. You should probably go X-ray her leg." House gaped.

"X-ray her leg?"

"Tape worm larva loves thigh muscle." I explained. "It'll show on the x-ray. I don't know what part of the episode you guys are at, so I don't know if you've reached the point where she's on the brink of death or not. Has Cuddy already suspended your treatment privileges to get you to do clinic duty?" I asked. He blinked.

"What? No, and we ran her blood for parasites, and it came up negative."

"They're wrong thirty percent of the time." I pointed out. "You really should get on that leg X-ray, House, before she has a pulmonary edema. And that's just the beginning of your problems." I said, secretly pleased with the fact that I knew something House didn't. He wasn't impressed.

"Sorry, she's one of God's people... no pork. Tape worm is out." House said. I shook my head.

"Oh, yeah, Wilson was lying about them being related. She's not Jewish." I explained. Wilson sighed, and House glared at him. "He was just trying to do it to get you to take the case, don't be mad at him."

House just looked at me, like I was one of his puzzles. Like I was a symptom.

"Yeah, well, I'll get right on taking advice on how to do my job from insane fourteen-"

"_Seventeen_."

"-year olds who apparently make a habit of stalking me." He finished, ignoring me.

"I'll tell you what, House, if it turns out she doesn't have a tape worm, then I'll go away and you'll never see me again." I said, playing off of House's betting nature. "But if I'm right, you have to help me." I offered diplomatically. He looked at me for a long moment before nodding.

"You're on." He said before limping out the door. It shut quietly behind him. I sank back down into Wilson's leather chair.

"I just met my hero." I mumbled to myself.

"House is your hero?" Wilson asked incredulously. I nodded.

"He may be a jackass on the outside, but he's got a heart of gold on the inside." I explained. Wilson just shook his head in awe and plopped down on the couch.

"You certainly know a lot about medicine for a seventeen year old." Wilson commented. I smirked, crossing my legs under me and turning Wilson's chair side to side.

"Well, I technically observed eight years of House's differentials, so you kind of get second hand medical training, whether you like it or not." I told him with a small shrug. Wilson's jaw was slacker than usual.

"I think you should start at the beginning." Wilson said slowly. I nodded.

"Probably a good idea." I agreed. I took a deep breath. "In my world, today was August 29th, 2012. I lived in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I went out to swim like any other summer day, but when I dove in... everything went weird. I felt like I was flipped over, then weightless, and then suddenly I was laying face down in the university fountain." I told him. "I went into the college gift shop, found out the day. I recognized it. House MD premiered on November 16th, 2004. I figured that and the closeness to PPTH couldn't be a coincidence. I made my way to the hospital, and when I saw Cuddy inside, I knew that I was in a different universe. In House's universe." I finished. "I was looking for House when I found you, actually."

Wilson sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I really shouldn't believe you..."

"But?" I said, smiling. He looked at me for a long moment.

"...but I do.

I breathed out in relief. "Good. If you believe me, hopefully it'll help House believe me."

"What are you going to do if he does?" Wilson asked, folding his hands together. I frowned.

"Um... haven't gotten that far yet, Wilson." I said sheepishly. "I need a place to sleep." I said.

"You could-" Wilson began, but I cut him off with a hand.

"I'm going to assume that you were going to offer for me to stay with you, but the fact that your marriage is already on the verge of yet another divorce, introducing a supposed future child into the mix would not be doing you or Julie any favors." I told him. "Listen, I'm still trying to convince myself that this isn't a hallucination or a dream or something. I guess I just haven't thought too far ahead at this point." I conceded.

Wilson blinked, then nodded quickly. "Right, I forgot, you know everything about me."

"Creepy, isn't it?"

* * *

_Author's Note: Review? :D_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Author's Note: Many thanks to my trusty beta, Wolfpack pride, and to all of you lovely reviewers out there._

_Disclaimer: I don't own House MD or it's characters. Just Anya._

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Wilson and I decided to relocate to the cafeteria around two. We were both starving, and he offered to pay, so how could I refuse? I was about to eat lunch with one of my favorite characters.

My mind, at this point, was kind of split in two. On one half, I was absolutely terrified. I was in a world where everyone and everything I ever cared about didn't exist. I didn't know where I was sleeping, how I would feed myself, or what the hell was going on in general.

On the other half, I was an obsessed House fan trapped in House land. I was eating lunch in PPTH cafeteria with James Wilson. As far as terrible situations go, this one certainly had some nice features.

I bit into the burger I had ordered, feeling guilty for the money Wilson spent on me. _Then again, at least I'm not stealing his food like House. _I thought with a hint of amusement. I also had an apple juice, and I sipped it as Wilson poked a fork into his salad.

"Alright, how did House and I meet?" Wilson asked. For the past hour or so, Wilson had been quizzing me on facts about him and House to see if I knew them. Eight times out of ten, I did, but some of the trivia was never mentioned in the show, so I wasn't doing perfectly.

"Season five, episode four, "Birthmarks"." I said immediately. I had also taken to answering his questions with the episode I learned the information in unless the episode gave something away about the plot of the episode. I had decided not to reveal anything to House and Wilson about their futures. A wise man once taught me that the truth is a powerful thing. "Sam had just had her lawyer serve you the divorce papers while you were at a medical conference in New Orleans. You were drowning your sorrows in the hotel bar, and someone kept playing "Leave a Tender Moment Alone" on the Juke Box. You flipped, threw a bottle into an antique mirror. You were taken into custody by the police, but House bailed you out a few hours later because you seemed interesting." I summarized. Wilson, for the umpteenth time that day, shook his head in amazement.

"You must have really loved the show." He commented. I grinned.

"Yeah... I did. I'm a huge fan. It's a shame this isn't season three or four, I could say everything that was about to come out of your mouth before you actually said it." Wilson just raised an eyebrow. "Those were the seasons I watched the most." I explained.

"So, care to tell me anything about my future?" Wilson asked, covering his full mouth with a hand and looking at me expectantly. I sighed, taking another bite of my burger and chewing slowly. I shook my head after I swallowed.

"Listen, Wilson, as a Christian, I believe everything happens for a reason, and I also don't believe in coincidences. I'll tell you what I told House. I think I'm here to make sure his life, and everybody else's for that matter, turns out less crappy. I don't want to screw things up by telling you guys your future. Assuming I stick around, I'm going to only prevent the stuff that didn't have any positive affects. I don't want to tamper too much." I explained. Wilson nodded, seeming to understand my reasons.

Amber's battered corpse floated to my mind**.**.. Thirteen's face, covered in blood after trying to resuscitate a long dead Kutner...House, lying in a hospital bed on God knows how many occasions...

Yeah, some stuff needed to be changed. It was the smaller, not life threatening stuff I had trouble with. If I was really here to help House, how was I supposed to know what events needed to stay and what events needed to go?

I massaged my forehead, lamenting my difficult situation. Right now, however, I had bigger fish to fry.

I just hoped I hadn't mixed up Rebecca's diagnosis with some other season one patient. If I got the diagnosis wrong, there was no chance of House believing me. None. House was suspicious by nature, and my story was more than a little far fetched.

"Alright..." He finished off his salad, pushing the plastic bowl away. "what was House's childhood like?" Wilson asked, tilting his head. My eyes widened. Wilson seemed curious for the answer this time, not curious as to whether I knew it or not.

Had House really told Wilson nothing about how he was raised? I mean, they never showed it on the show, but I just assumed that at some point, House had told Wilson about his rather troublesome childhood...

Apparently not.

And I wasn't going to be the one to violate House's confidence, even if he didn't know that I knew.

Wilson must have seen how my gaze darkened, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Wilson..." I trailed off, pursing my lips. "I don't think it's my place to tell you if you don't already know." I said quietly. Wilson seemed slightly affronted for a moment before nodding.

"Okay... maybe I'll ask him about it sometime." Wilson said gently. The funny thing was, Wilson was as easy to get along with in real life as he appeared on the big screen. _James Wilson, carefully calibrating his level of attention to your personal needs._

I popped the last bite of my burger in my mouth, and drained the dregs of my apple juice. Leaning back in my chair, I gave Wilson a grateful smile.

"Thanks for paying for me, I owe you one." Wilson waved me off.

"It's just lunch. No big deal. If I was keeping tabs-"

"House's would be astronomical." I finished for him with a hint of amusement. For the twentieth time that day, I saw Wilson visibly stop himself from asking, "How did you know that?"

Wilson glanced around the cafeteria, and his eyes fixed on someone behind us. I turned to see who he was looking at.

"House's new team..." Wilson muttered.

Holy shit. The original ducklings. Chase, Cameron, and Foreman strolled into the cafeteria, making a beeline towards Wilson's table. They stopped in front of us and glanced nervously at each other.

"Dr. Wilson?" Cameron asked. I blinked, confused, before remembering that the three of them had just recently started working for House, and weren't well acquainted with each other, House, or Wilson quite yet.

"That's my name." Wilson said as he smiled and extended a hand. "Dr. Cameron, right?" She nodded.

"Yes. Um, Dr. House wanted us to let you know that, er-"

"He told us to say, and I quote, 'Tell Wilson his pseudo-cousin is cured, and then tell him to bring the midget to my office and I'll meet him there.'" Foreman relayed, chancing a glance at me. "His words, not mine." Wilson nodded.

"Alright, thank you for telling me." Wilson said. House's team all said their goodbyes, and Cameron and Chase both flashed me a smile as they departed. Wilson looked at me expectantly as they left.

"Sorry, trying to not scream with joy." I said, flashing him a self-deprecating smile. "I mean, that was the original _ducklings_!" I exclaimed, putting my hands over my mouth. Wilson looked at me like I was insane.

Considering the circumstances, I probably was.

I took a deep breath, "I apologize for my fangirling... you just don't get what a big thing House was in my world. I mean, it was easily one of the most popular shows on television in it's heyday."

"It's heyday?" Wilson questioned as he stood up. I followed suit.

"Yeah, I'm not sure one hundred percent on the statistics, but I think the ratings probably peaked around season five or six. I did read somewhere though that worldwide, over eight hundred million people had watched the show." I mentioned. Wilson began heading out of the cafeteria, and I followed close behind.

"You're kidding. Is House's life really that interesting?" Wilson asked, laughing slightly.

"House doesn't do uninteresting." I said with a snort. "I mean, can you ever remember being _bored _around House?" I asked him. Wilson seemed to consider this, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Point." He conceded. "But House isn't exactly-"

"Your typical good guy main character?" I finished for him as he held the cafeteria door open for me. I stepped out into one of the hallways on the ground floor.

"Yeah. I mean, House isn't evil, but he's not exactly crusading for the common good, either."

"That what made the show _so good_!" I burst out, unable to control myself. I loved talking about House, and none of my friends were die hard fans like myself, so I rarely got the chance to. "He wasn't the perfect protagonist, he wasn't even necessarily a good guy- he didn't always do the right thing. None of the characters did. The show didn't have characters, it had people. People who were _human_. Imperfect and screwed up beyond belief, each with demons in their closet, and House had more than all of them put together." I said, all in one breath. Wilson looked at me, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"You sure you can handle being in the same room with House without falling to your knees in hero worship?" He asked. I rolled my eyes as we reached the elevator.

"I handled myself fine in your office. It's really cool to meet him, but right now I'm just worried about convincing him that I'm not insane." I explained as Wilson hit the button for the third floor, and the elevator doors dinged shut. "He's really intimidating, I have to say. I didn't expect him to be like that."

"He's intimidating?" Wilson asked. I nodded, biting my lip

"Yeah. I mean, you probably don't feel like that because you've been around him so long, but seeing someone through a TV screen and meeting them in person are two completely different things." I said, tilting my head in thought. "For instance, you're much more likable in person."

Wilson balked. "What, I wasn't likable on the show?"

"No, no, it's not that. It's just in ninety percent of the scenes you were in, you were with House, and you're not nice when you're around House. It's not because you yourself aren't nice, it's because you know nice bores House. So, I never really got much of an idea of what you were like just to talk to and be around." I smiled nervously at the oncologist. "You're really easy to talk to, by the way."

"Same goes for you." Wilson said, returning my smile. Wilson really was a nice guy. Quick to smile and laugh. I was almost shocked by just how genial he really was.

_How the hell was he friends with House? _I thought to myself. I couldn't fathom what glue held the two men's friendship together. I was a scholar on all things House, but being here, in their world, was showing me how little I really knew about them as people.

The elevator doors opened to reveal the third floor. We walked down the corridor, and I struggled to match my short legged stride with Wilson's. I sniffed the air experimentally, feeling like a creep as I did so. _I can't be the only person who wonders what they all smelled like._

It was weird, Wilson didn't really have a smell... he just smelled clean, like fresh linens or something. Hmm. I made a mental note that during my time here, I would sniff every one of the main cast members. Hopefully without being noticed.

_Focus! Got to convince House! _I yelled at myself. I had to convince a world class skeptic of something nutty and inexplicable that I had no proof of other than my uncanny knowledge of future events**.**

We stopped in front of House's office. Through the glass, I saw the diagnostician combing his piercing eyes over a file, apparently unaware of my and Wilson's attention.

"I really hope I got the diagnosis right on Rebecca." I muttered nervously. Wilson looked at me, perplexed.

"You're not sure? Didn't they say that in the show?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, but I can't be expected to remember the diagnosis for one hundred and seventy seven episodes!" I said. "Well, roughly one hundred and seventy seven episodes, I mean, a few of them didn't have POTW's, like "Broken" and "5 to 9", and I guess technically although there was a POTW in "No Reason", we never find out the diagnosis, by the way, POTW stands for 'patient of the week'..." I trailed off, noticing Wilson's confused look. "Sorry. I'm rambling. Let's go in."

Wilson held open the door for me, something I noticed he did with every door we came to. How chivalrous. I walked through, greeting House with a stiff nod. He took of his glasses and examined me, and I felt positively naked in front of those searching eyes.

Major awkward.

"Rebecca's leg turned up some larvae, I presume?" I said, swallowing my fear and putting on a cocky smirk. House glared at me.

"Yeah." He said tersely. "And now you're going to explain to me what the hell is going on." He seemed intrigued, but also frustrated. I'd no doubt taken the wind out of his sails by diagnosing his patient only a few hours after he had taken her on, not to mention he was probably annoyed at Wilson for pretending Rebecca was his cousin.

I sighed, my eyes bouncing to House's recliner in the corner of his office. I thought of asking his permission, but then remembered it was House, and I plopped down without any invitation. _Sitting in House's recliner!_ My fangirl side screamed. Leaning forward, I folded my hands together. To gain House's respect and hard to earn trust, I had to be confident. I had to be sure I was right, even to the point of being arrogant...

I had to be House, and after watching him all these years, I thought I could do the job pretty well.

"I already told you, I'm from an alternate universe. Some way I can't explain, I fell through some cross-dimensional portal and ended up here, in your dimension, which in _my_ dimension is a television show. You'd mock me for this, but I personally think I was sent here for a reason. Like I said before, I think I'm here to stop some of the stuff that happens over the next decade or so. Make all of you guys' lives turn out less crappy." I held up my hands. "Not much more to explain. If I knew how the hell I ended up here, I'd tell you, trust me."

"You see, if I can't trust you, then I-"

"Can't believe me when I say you can trust me?" I finished. If House looked surprised by my comment, he didn't show it. Wrapping his hand around his cane, he rose from his desk. Wilson pointed at me.

"House, I really don't think she's lying. She knows... everything. About you, about me, she knows stuff _I've_ never told anybody! Stuff _you've_ never told anybody! She knew Rebecca's diagnosis before you did, and you're arguably the best diagnostician in the world!" Wilson insisted. I flushed at his assistance, but was grateful for it. Having House's best friend on my side would definitely help my case.

"How do I know this isn't some elaborate prank? You give me a patient you already know the diagnosis to, then drum up some niece to pretend to be some emissary from the future in an alternate universe." House pointed out, limping towards us. Without meaning to, I winced. It had always helped watching the show to know that House wasn't actually in pain. That it was really just Hugh Laurie playing his part. But in the real House dimension, he was in very real pain.

I felt bad for him. Terrible, actually. Although I had just technically met him, I cared about House a great deal. I mean, you get attached to characters after all those years of watching the show.

"One, from my knowledge, Wilson's brother doesn't have any kids. Two, I told you stuff that Wilson didn't know. There's other things I could say that Wilson didn't know, but since he's in the room, I don't want to violate your privacy." I elaborated. House's eyes darted to Wilson.

"It's true. I was quizzing her about me and you, and she knew everything there was to know about either of us. The stuff that I didn't know about you and she did, she wouldn't tell me. Said it wasn't right." Wilson said. He gave me a pensive look, then returned his gaze to House. "This isn't a joke, this isn't a scam... I'm convinced this is real. I'm not being a gullible idiot. I can't explain how she knows what she does, unless she is an insanely talented stalker that can somehow get inside of my head."

I could see the battle raging behind House's blue eyes. The part that refused to believe something that couldn't be explained, and the part that was faced with the proof of the situation.

Right now, I was depending on the latter.

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_Author's Note: I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one, guys._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Author's Note: Thanks as always to my beta, Wolfpack pride, and to all you lovely reviewers out there. :)_

_Disclaimer: Anya is mine, but I'm just borrowing the rest._

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House's eyes bore into me before he finally responded.

"You want to stay with me." He surmised, and I blinked in surprise for a moment before remembering that this _was_ House... and House was a genius. I absent mindedly scratched the back of my head, nervous for what House's reaction might be.

"Err, well... yeah."

The diagnostician gazed at me for almost a full minute, and I knew the Rubik's cube was turning in his mind. My leg bounced nervously. If House refused me, I was pretty much fucked... Wilson would try and help me, but I didn't want to ruin his marriage, even though it was already doomed. Finally, House nodded, his eyes looking up.

"Sure. Why the hell not?"

I just stared.

Holy shit.

Looks like I was moving in with Dr. Gregory House.

Life. Made.

**xxxxxx**

I was standing in House's apartment. _House's apartment_. It was a shock, for sure. The first thing I noticed was the smell: a mixture of coffee, scotch, and Chinese food. Not exactly a delicious cocktail, but distinctly House. I reminded myself that I still needed to sniff my hero the next time he wasn't paying attention.

Right now, House was paying a lot of attention. Well, House always paid attention, didn't he? Wilson was on one side, House on the other, and we all stood hesitantly in the threshold of the apartment. My eyes wandered to his piano and guitar in the corner, and I smiled brightly. House raised an eyebrow curiously at me, but said nothing. Sighing, he walked forward, tossing his coat onto the couch and motioning to the room around him.

"Well, here you go. Taj MaHouse." He said. He plopped down on the couch. "Here are the rules: If there's a sock on the bedroom door, go somewhere else**…**Preferably far away. Don't make a mess, don't annoy me, don't bug me when I'm-" I raised a hand to silence the older doctor.

"I watched the show, House. I know what annoys you." He opened his mouth to retort, and held up my hand yet again. "And yes, I know being interrupted annoys you." House's eyes widened for a brief moment before he regained his composure. His reaction was actually pretty amusing whenever I had an opportunity to steal the words out of his mouth; it seemed to unsettle him.

Unfortunately for House, I'd probably be doing that a lot. House nodded.

"Good. We're clear then." House said, looking at Wilson. "Why are you here, exactly?"

Wilson stepped forward nervously. "Well, if you and Anya are going to live together, we should probably talk about..." He paused, searching for the correct words. "I don't know, everything."

"For starters," I said, shuffling awkwardly as Wilson shut the door behind us. "I kind of need clothes." I motioned down at my oversized sweat pants and sweat shirt. "I bummed these off of some chick at the gift shop at the university. Listen, I feel super bad for asking, but can you buy me some essentials? I promise, I'll get a fake ID or something and get a job to pay you back-" House shook his head.

"I'm a doctor, kid. I've got money to spare." I raised an eyebrow. I was still lost as to why House had agreed to let me live with him so readily. House was about as antisocial as they came, why did he want a teenager living with him?

My best guess was that to House, I was another puzzle. House could _not_pass up a puzzle. Thank God he was curious and obsessive, or I'd be sleeping on the street.

"Thank you." I said, blinking, and knowing the thanks meant nothing to House. He merely shrugged in response. Wilson put a light hand on my back and guided me to the sofa, where I sat down on the end, and Wilson plopped down on my side. _On a couch with House and Wilson! _Fangirl-Me screamed.

"You're seventeen, right?" Wilson asked me. I nodded. "So are you starting your senior or junior year?" He asked.

"Senior." I answered. "My birthday's in one week." Wilson nodded, and then looked at House.

"Anyway you can think of to get her into school?" He asked. I responded before House could.

"No way. On record, I don't exist. Even if you managed to get fake immunization records, fake birth certificate, fake everything- then I'd have to go to school and lie my ass off day in and day out. I can't do that." _I might as well get the fact that I'm honest out of the way now_.

"People lie day in and day out, regardless of the situation. Your lies would just be bigger." House remarked. I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was going to say something to that effect.

"I think it would be easier to keep my cover if I was in cyber school. I don't know about New Jersey, but in Pennsylvania they had a statewide tuition free cyber school. That still leaves the problem of the fact that I don't exist in this universe. No social security number, no record of my birth, no record that my family even existed." I said. House waved me off.

"Getting a fake identity is actually a lot easier than most people write it off to be. Give me a week or two, and I can get you fake everything - I know some people." Wilson cast him a wary look. "The immunization, health records, birth certificate - that won't be hard. I _am_a doctor, after all." He said. Both Wilson and I had curious stares aimed his way. He glanced between to the two of us. "What?" He snapped.

"You're being very... helpful." Wilson commented slowly.

"It's very unsettling." I added cheerfully. House glared at me.

"If you're going to live with me, you're going to need something to do while I'm at work. You're also a teenager, and legally you're supposed to be in school. On top of that, it's awfully hard for you to get a job if you have no identity, and even harder if you have no high school education. I'm not going to just leave some bored teenager alone in my house all day with nothing to do." He said. I nodded, knowing that House wasn't saying the real reason he was being so damn helpful. I made a mental note to investigate further at a later date.

"Did you have any plans for university?" Wilson asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, I got accepted to Brown over the summer. I was going to go to medical school, somewhat ironically." I said, running a hand through my tangled mess of hair. Swimming had tangled it up, then being blown around in the November wind, and now at five o'clock, it had been through hell and back without a single brush. Ugh.

"Did House inspire you to be a doctor, or something?" Wilson asked, laughing slightly. I shook my head, chuckling.

"No, no, House didn't. I mean, the show got me interested in medicine, but it's always kind of been in the back of my mind that it was something I wanted to do. Regardless of my aspirations at any given time, I've always wanted to make a difference with what I do. Being a doctor, I can help people. Not to mention it's a profession that's always changing, always presenting me with new challenges." I explained. House scoffed at me.

"You are so-"

"Naive?" I finished for him. "I figured you'd say that. I'm sure you'll make it your mission to stomp the youthful optimism out of me." I commented dryly. House looked at me over Wilson, his eyes glittering like I was some interesting novelty. I suppressed a shiver. I just got a very... exposed feeling when House looked at me. _How am I supposed to live with him if I can't even make eye contact with the guy?_

"So, how long did this 'show' last?" House asked, abruptly changing the subject and showing his skepticism with the whole concept of me being from an alternate universe.

"From November 16th, 2004, to May 21st, 2012." I said quickly. "Eight years in real world time, but the show took place over the course of about nine years." I had to account for House's year in prison, but obviously I didn't say that aloud.

"So, what, you're going to be my roomie for nearly a decade?" House asked. I shrugged.

"I don't know. Part of me is still convinced this is a dream... but I guess, if this is real, and you'll let me stay here... then yeah. At least eight years." I shook my head in awe. For a seventeen year old, eight years was a long ass time. "I'm going to be your full time guardian angel, I suppose." House snorted with derision.

"My forties must be a shit storm if you're showing up now, and not before the catastrophic muscle death that ruined my relationship and caused me to grow myself a nice dependence on pain killers." House said dismally. I shrugged.

"I can't work miracles. I wouldn't have been able to stop what happened to your leg. The only thing I would've done if I was there was try and convince you to amputate, so you could avoid being in massive amounts of pain your whole life."

"And lose an essential part of my body?" House growled. I sighed, knowing that it was an useless argument.

"So, what's the next step from right now?" Wilson asked. House paused, thinking, but I piped up before he had a chance to share his thoughts.

"Right now, all I want is a hot shower and to get out of my bikini. It's starting to chaff." Both House and Wilson shot me strange looks, which I was used to. I was the kind of person who tended to blurt out whatever they were thinking.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you know where the shower is?" House asked dryly. I nodded.

"Yep. I know where everything is." I said, smirking slightly before growing serious. "House, seriously, thank you. I'd be screwed if you hadn't agreed to this." He simply eyed me.

"Make sure I don't regret it."

**xxxxxx**

Forty minutes later, I hopped out of House's shower into the steamy bathroom, feeling refreshed and clean. After drying myself off with a thick brown towel, I searched the room up and down for a brush that was more than a measly comb. With my thick brown locks, I needed a heavy duty brush.

I found one in the cabinet under the sink, and I guessed it was relic from when Stacy lived with him. I raked it through my hair as I glanced around the bathroom, still shocked at where I was. Barely able to convince myself that Gregory House and James Wilson were waiting for me to get out of the shower.

My eyes landed on the mirror in House's bathroom, and I shuddered, remembering the two times that House had ripped the mirror off of the wall to reveal the secret stash of pills hidden behind it. I thought of taking it off now, taking the pills, and flushing them down the toilet, but decided since that was nearly seven years in the future, it might be jumping the gun at some point.

After I finished raking the brush through my hair, I grabbed my bikini bottom and top and put them back on. Wilson had thrown them in the dryer for me and placed them in the bathroom halfway through my shower, along with the now clean sweat pants. However, the sweat shirt, which had been at least three sizes larger than needed, was not there. Wilson had laid one of House's vintage tee shirts out for me. He shrunk it in the wash by accident a few weeks ago." He had explained.

I wiggled into the sweat pants, then pulled House's shirt over my head. It was soft, and after a curious sniff, I smiled. It smelled a bit like his home, and a bit like cinnamon and expensive aftershave.

_Wearing House's tee shirt! _Fangirl-Me shouted in my head. I mentally told her to shut up. I couldn't have a mini House fan freak out every time I touched something that belonged to him or Wilson. _God, if this is bad, imagine when I meet Thirteen._

I stretched my arms, then looked in the mirror again, only this time I wasn't thinking of House's relapse, I was thinking of myself.

My bright green eyes stared back at me, looking both excited and scared. My tan skin made them seem more vibrant than usual, and I resented the fact that in the blustery New Jersey November, I'd lose my tan within the week.

I was short, with a body that didn't speak of athleticism. I was perfectly normal sized, although I had inherited the rather busty gene from my mother. I resented it heavily, hence why I tended to swaddle myself in thick hoodies or tee shirts to hide my upper body. I had petite facial features: small eyes, small nose, and slight lips. A single mole dotted my upper lip, my one and only birthmark.

The only other noticeable thing on my face was a scar that marred my left eyebrow, a leftover reminder of a nasty fall I had experienced. I had been sneaking out of my friend Maura's house and taken a dive off of her roof into a large group of pricker bushes. Not a fun night.

Overall, I was relatively unremarkable looking, and I was happy with that. I had a loud enough personality, I didn't need my physical appearance to be that ostentatious.

Dressed in House's tee shirt, which was still slightly baggy on me despite the major shrinkage, and my borrowed sweat pants, I opened the door and stepped out into House's chilly apartment.

My new life had officially begun.

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_Author's Note: I don't know why, I always imagined House smelling a little like cinnamon for some reason... reviews are appreciated, as always. Also, like a few other ffn authors, I made myself a Facebook page. If you like my stories, it would be cool if you like it up. The link is on my profile page. Thanks for reading! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Author's Note: Thanks to my beta Wolfpack pride for helping me get this right, and to all of you have read, reviewed, favorited and followed._

_Disclaimer: House MD does not belong to me, though it would make an excellent Christmas present. Only Anya is mine._

* * *

House and Wilson must not have heard me open and close the door because they continued their discussion in spite of my presence behind them.

"-someone's bound to notice you've got a teenage girl living with you." Wilson was saying, looking exasperated.

"And your point being?" House asked edgily.

"People might... assume things." Wilson said carefully. I could see House tense next to his best friend.

"And what would that be, exactly?"

"Well... I mean," Wilson stammered nervously, no doubt trying to say what was on his mind without offending House. I decided to step in.

"I think what Wilson's trying to say is that it would a good idea to come up with a cover story for why I'm living with you. An_innocent_cover story." I said, causing both of the men to jump. They both turned to look at me at the same time.

"Innocent?" House echoed. "Live in maid would be a decent one, right?" Wilson sighed.

"Why don't you just say that Anya's your daughter?" He proposed. Both House and I stopped to think about that one.

Me, masquerading as House's daughter? Holy crap. Although House and I had a few shared personality traits (I could be almost as arrogant as he was sometimes, and not to mention I had the same crude and sarcastic sense of humor) we didn't look terribly much alike. House was the first to point this out.

"The kid looks nothing like me." House said. I shrugged.

"Say my mother had strong traits or something." I suggested. I moved forward, leaning my elbows on the back of the sofa so my head hovered in the middle of House and Wilson's, though slightly above them.

"It's a decent cover." Wilson pointed out.

"Yeah, just say that you knocked up some chick like eighteen years ago, she got pregnant and never told you, then raised me until now, and then she died in a car crash or some other catastrophe." I said, coming up with the obvious string of logic. House hesitated before nodding.

"Fine. Anyone asks, and by anyone I mean Cuddy, you're my daughter." House said, as if we were deciding where to eat for dinner, not the pseudo paternal relationship we were going to adopt for however long I remained in their universe.

Speaking of dinner...

"Okay, awesome, now, two priorities." I held up two fingers. "One, dinner?" I proposed. My first finger fell. "And then if we could go grab some clothes and toiletries, that would be nice."

Wilson nodded, then looked at House.

"Where you want to eat?" He asked. House cast Wilson a glance.

"Any reason why you're so involved in this? The show was called _House MD_, not the _House and Wilson Variety Hour_. Or are you angling for the position of Uncle Wilson in our new cross-dimensional family?" He asked sarcastically, pushing himself off of the couch. He massaged his thigh before turning to me. "What kind of food do you eat?" He asked.

"Chinese." I said immediately. Not just because I wanted to suck up to House, who I knew loved Chinese, but because it really was my favorite food in the world. House nodded. He looked to Wilson. "That okay with you, _Uncle Jimmy_?" House asked in a mockingly sweet voice. Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, House." House scoffed and grabbed his jacket from the couch and scooped his keys up from the counter.

"Come on!" He said, limping towards the door. Wilson and I trailed behind, and Wilson cast me a look and a small smile. He probably knew how much I was freaking out on the inside right now.

"Knees are still firm and strong." I quipped quietly, so House couldn't here me. Wilson grinned.

"For now."

**xxxxxx**

Dinner ended up being the Chinese buffet that Wilson and House frequented. It was delicious, but gave me a very unsettling home sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was a Chinese place back home in Breeze Point, my friends and I ate there all the time.

The initial excitement was starting to fade slightly, replaced by thoughts of my mother and father, who I was already missing. They had no idea where I was, if I was alive... My heart clenched. Meeting my hero, that was great. Getting to live in the world I had always wished was real was cool...

But I didn't realize until then how much I took my own world for granted. I was mostly silent by about half way through dinner and unsurprisingly, Wilson and House both noticed.

They both had their own approaches to figuring out the reasoning behind my quietness.

"Everything alright?" Wilson asked.

"Digestive system implosion hitting you a few hours early?" House asked.

I looked at them both, a small but amused smile threatening to spread onto my lips before it faded. "Guess it just hit me... I might not be seeing my family for awhile." _Or ever. _I added nonverbally. Wilson looked at me, his classic caring too much look on. House merely continued to chew his General Tsao's. Although he was legendary for his expressive eyes, right now he was pretty much inscrutable.

"I'm sorry, I can't even imagine what you're going through." Wilson said, his voice subdued and sorrowful. I shook my head, trying to clear the funk that had settled within. I didn't like Wilson talking to me like I was one of his cancer patients.

"It's fine." I said. "It'll just take some adjusting, you know?" I said, trying to put an optimistic smile on my face.

Neither House norWilson bought it. I tried to get more involved in the dinner conversation after that, not wanting to be the Debbie Downer. We talked essentially about what exactly could have caused me to be sent over here.

And this led to conversation I was dreading having with House... the age old "God isn't real and life is meaningless." argument.

"House, there's no point in debating religion with you." I sighed, after I had explained my thoughts of divine intervention, House immediately said I was an idiot clinging to a false god because it made me feel better about life so I didn't have to face the cold hard fact that, and I quote, "We're all just cockroaches waiting to be exterminated."

Lovely and uplifting as usual. I really didn't want to spend the rest of the night arguing, so I was trying to extinguish the situation.

"No point? I think there's definitely a point. I don't want to live with someone who's going to DVR Joel Osteen and preach about the good book-" He began, but I cut him off, something I noticed I was doing a lot.

"House, once again, I know you. If I thought I could convince you to give religion a shot, I would, but I know I can't convince you. I'm not going to get all up in your face about it. I'm not your typical, uppity, Bible beating Christian." I explained tiredly, finishing off my Lo Mein.

"You don't want an argument because you don't have an argument for your side. There's no proof for your side, all the proof for my side." House insisted. I slapped my forehead with my hand.

"House, seriously?" I said. "Does it really matter if I take solace in my beliefs? I get that an intelligent religion person kind of messes with your world view, but you've got to know that nothing you say is going to change how I feel."

"We'll see." House said, pushing himself up and grabbing his cane. "Afew weeks with me and I'll have you burning Bibles."

"Or I'll have you reading them." I said, that being the cleverest response I could think of. It was, admittedly, not my best.

Wilson scooted out of the booth and rose to stand next to House, and I stood up as well. Wilson tossed a few dollars onto the tip tray, then looked at me with a smile. He had a glimmer in his eye. As we began to walk away, I trailed behind House.

"You think this is funny!" I accused Wilson with a hiss. He laughed under his breath.

"That would be because it is." He responded. "Watching you two butt heads is interesting... you're a little bit like House, you know." He commented. "If House had a soul."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't suppress a smile.

"Just because I'm crippled doesn't mean I'm deaf!" House called as he reached his car. Wilson slipped into the passenger seat, and I hopped into the back, still smiling a little. House pulled out of the parking lot next to the Chinese place, and I laid down in the backseat, enjoying the fact that I didn't have my mom or dad yelling at me to put on my seatbelt. I knew that House rarely wore one, so it's not like he was going to make sure I had one on.

"There's an outlet mall a few miles from here." Wilson said, before looking back at me. "Hey, put on your seatbelt!" He said. I rolled my eyes at his motherly behavior.

"I have faith in House's driving. He hasn't crashed-" I broke off, a mental image in my head of House crashing his car into Cuddy's house. Wilson noticed my hesitation, so I tried quickly to recover. "He hasn't crashed a four wheeled vehicle in awhile, to my knowledge." I said.

"Yeah, Wilson, have a little faith!" House said, speeding up drastically. I wasn't really expecting the sudden speed change, and I ended up flopping onto the floor.

"Fuck!" I yelled, bashing my face off of the floor of House's car.

"You okay?" Wilson asked.

"Fine." I mumbled as I pushed myself back up and sat in the backseat once more, strapping myself in this time. I saw Wilson give me a knowing look in the rearview mirror. I stuck my tongue out at him.

After driving for a few minutes, House pulled into the somewhat empty parking lot in front of the strip mall.

"Alright." House took out his wallet. He tossed it to Wilson. "Go get the kid whatever she needs." I unbuckled my seatbelt, giving a House a questioning look as I did so, trying to hide my disappointment.

"You're not coming? It's your money." I said.

"I'm a busy man. I've got things to do while you and Auntie Wilson shops." He said. I shrugged. _Wait, is he Uncle Jimmy or Auntie Wilson? I'm so lost._

"Whatever."

"We'll call you when we're done." Wilson said. House simply nodded as Wilson opened the passenger seat door. I mirrored him, getting out of the car with one backwards glance at House.

As he drove away and Wilson and I began walking towards the strip mall, I bit the inside of my lip. "Wilson?" I said. He looked at me as we walked into Macy's.

"Hmm?"

"Um, I do need some, err, girly stuff, and I really don't want to subject you to shopping with me. Why don't you just meet me at the checkout in an hour?" Don't get me wrong, I liked having Wilson around, but buying bras with the guy... it was just too much.

Wilson hesitated, obviously apprehensive to leave me alone. I rolled my eyes at him. "Wilson, I'm nearly eighteen, I can be alone in a store." I assured him.

"Okay." He acquiesced. "I'll meet you at checkout three in an hour." He told me, and I nodded.

"Alright,_Auntie_Wilson." I said with a shit-eating grin on my face. He gave me a jaded look as he headed off to a different part of the store, probably needing to do some shopping of his own.

I looked around the department store, realizing that this was one of my first times shopping on my own. Unless I was Christmas shopping, I was almost always with either my family or friends.

_My family and friends aren't here now though, are they? _I felt the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach again, and tried to shake myself out of it as I went about my shopping.

**xxxxxx**

An hour later, I stood in line with Wilson, pushing a cart filled with everything I would need to move in with House. I tried to shop cheap, not wanting to drain House of his money. I got only the essentials. The only thing I bought that I didn't actually need was a beanie. I wore them all the time, my head felt practically naked without a hat. It was only three dollars, so I figured it was okay.

Wilson had gotten a new tie, and I curiously wondered what he had spent the past hour doing, but decided not to ask. It took us a bit to check out, but as the cashier finished bagging our purchases, Wilson called House.

"We're done. Okay. Yeah. No, you didn't tell me to get you anything. I'm not a mind reader, House. You're going to be taking care of a teenager, House, you shouldn't - I'm not being a nag, I'm just saying -"

I tuned out Wilson's conversation with House as I loaded our bags into the cart. By the time I was done, Wilson had hung up with House.

"He wants us to pick him up a bottle of scotch." He told me in a tired voice. I smiled.

"Of course he does." I said. Wilson blinked.

"Right, you would know what he drinks, wouldn't you." Wilson said, taking the cart from me and pushing it out the front door.

"Here, I'll watch the cart, you run to the liquor store and buy him his booze." I told Wilson. He nodded, trotting off to the liquor store farther down the line of stores.

Before Wilson had the chance to get back, House pulled up in front of me, laying hard on the horn. I let out a laugh as I pushed the cart around to House's trunk. He came out of the driver's seat and limped around the car to meet me.

"Have fun spending my money?" He asked by way of greeting as he unlocked the trunk for me.

"I'll pay you back." I assured him. "If you can get me a fake ID, I'll get a job." I began piling the bags into his trunk.

"I see no one has taught you the concept of sarcasm." House commented dryly. I shook my head.

"No, I know you're kidding, but I'm still going to pay you back." I said as I placed the last bag in, taking my beanie from the top of the load and tugging it onto my head. My mom always said my hats were 'security blankets', which I suppose was kind of true. They made me feel safe.

House considered me for a long moment before closing the trunk of the car. He just stood there in the faint light cast by the strip mall, staring at me. I felt that overwhelming feeling of exposure again, but I didn't drop his gaze.

"Hats don't become you." He said finally, his voice much more serious than usual. He broke the odd moment when he gestured to the car. "Come on, let's go get Wilson. Don't want him to get lost."

I nodded, heading into the backseat of House's car again. As he pulled away from the curb, I took my hat off.

**xxxxxx**

All the bags were now sitting on the couch in House's living room. House and Wilson had hauled them all in, and I had followed close behind, holding House's cane for him. He was massaging his thigh now, no doubt wincing from the excursion. I had told House I could get the bags, but he had waved me off.

"Someone's got to get the doors." He had said. House's helpful behavior continued to confuse me, but I let it go.

As I stared at the bags, I realized we had a problem. Where was I supposed to keep all of my stuff?

"Um, House?" I asked. When I turned, I expected to see Wilson and him standing there, but they weren't. "Guys?" I called. The apartment door was hanging open.

"Coming!" I heard Wilson call in the distance, his voice strained. Within a few moments, I saw Wilson hauling a small dresser inside of the apartment; House propping the doors open for him. Wilson dropped the dresser heavily behind the couch, where it face out towards the apartment.

"There you go." House said. "Keep your stuff there." It then clicked in my head that House had bought me the dresser. _So that's what he was doing while I was shopping..._

"Thanks, House." I said quietly, overwhelmed by how much House and Wilson had both helped me throughout the day. He just shrugged.

"Had to put your stuff somewhere." He said before looking at Wilson. "Get out." Wilson looked taken aback.

"Why?" He asked.

"I'm tired, and I don't feel like enabling your persistent avoidance of your wife." House explained.

"I'm not-" He began defensively.

"You are." House and I said at the exact same time. Wilson glanced between the two of us, his lips pursed. "Okay. I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"'Night, Wilson." I said. In spite of my better judgment, I acted on impulse and stepped forward to give him a hug. He returned it, and Fangirl Me was flipping out. _Hugging Wilson! HUGGING WILSON!_

"Night, Anya. It was nice meeting you." He told me, pulling back and grabbing his coat off of the back of the couch as he departed House's apartment, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with my hero.

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_Author's Note: I love feedback. :) _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: As always, thanks for reading! And thank you to my beta, Wolfpack pride, for her immense help! Also, you guys probably noticed the different username - no worries, it's still just me, I'm just Known Unknowns now instead of HouseMDforever. _

_Disclaimer: Anya is mine, but the others I'm just borrowing._

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_Well, this is awkward._

Watching the show since I was a little girl aside, I was now alone in an older guy's house who I had technically just met that day. _Come on, you've known him for eight years! He just hasn't known you... okay, this reasoning isn't getting me anywhere._

"So, uh, is it okay if I grab a blanket from the hall closet?" I asked, glancing sideways at House. He opened his mouth (no doubt to ask me how I knew that) but then seemed to remember the whole alternate universe thing, and nodded.

Standing in front of the closet, I opened it up, already knowing what it contained. House's old lacrosse equipment, spare canes, dozens of tennis shoes, one of his many vicodin stashes, a few blankets, and coats. I wasn't sure whether the shoe box with House's father's pistol and officer's sword was in there yet. The show never made it clear as to whether House had gotten those before or after his father died.

I grabbed the first blanket I saw, identifying it as the same one Cuddy slept under in "House's Head". _That doesn't happen until four years from now. _

Damn. Having future knowledge was weird, and it was definitely going to take some getting used to. Well, if I had my way, the events at the end of season four wouldn't happen. I was facing a massive dilemma in front of me. I had the power to change the course of House's life, and I intended to do so, and make sure it was changed for the better.

But how exactly did I know when to interfere and when not to? What if I changed something, and House's life just ended up being way worse? I'd been pretty distracted over the past couple of hours, but I already knew that at the very least, I had four things I _needed _to prevent.

1) Amber's death

2) Kutner's death

3) Wilson's cancer

4) House going to jail

Preventing death is kind of a given, but figuring out how the hell I was going to save the three of them was the problem. Amber was simple enough, just tell her to never ever get on a bus, or tell House to never call Wilson for a ride home from the bar once he and Amber started dating.

Kutner's would be a lot more complicated, considering the show never really gave an explanation as to why he killed himself. I mean, the guy had seemed happy and chipper almost to a fault, and then BAM! (quite literally) he suffers an unfortunate self inflicted ballistic injury to the skull.

With Wilson, I guess I would just tell him to screen himself for cancer every week until the thymoma developed, that way he could catch it as early as humanly possible. I probably wouldn't need to give him a heads up until 2010 or so, so that was pretty far off.

Obviously, I couldn't let House go to jail, so by extension I couldn't let him drive his car into Cuddy's house. There were a couple ways to go about that. I could keep House and Cuddy from breaking up, I could make sure House wasn't at Cuddy's at that particular moment, or I could just straight up tell House that if he did that, he would go to jail.

_I have a lot of work ahead of me. _That still left all the other terrible stuff that happened to House, and it left me wondering what I should change and what I should let run it's course.

Most of the time, the crappy situations House got himself into generally tended to resolve themselves. In the Vogler story arc, everything basically went back to normal, and although there were definitely some sore feelings left behind after the whole Tritter incident, everything went back to normal then as well.

I was shaken from my thoughts by a voice behind me.

"Blanket's kind of pointless if you're going to sleep standing up." House said. I jumped, having not even having realized he was behind me. _How come I didn't hear his cane on the floor_? I must have really spaced out.

"S-sorry." I stammered, turning to face him, clutching the blanket in my hands. "I tend to get a bit lost sometimes." I told him. He just shrugged before heading towards the kitchen.

"You want a drink or something?" He called. I blinked, surprised by the offer, as I headed out into the living room and put the folded blanket down on the couch.

"I don't drink." I said immediately, having been asked that easily a hundred times since I turned fifteen. I was kind of a goodie-two-shoes. No booze. No drugs. Made life a hell of a lot easier in the long run. Seeing House's own battle with them may have played some part in that.

"I heard a legend of there being this thing called 'soda', which apparently contains no alcohol." House responded, and I mentally slapped myself for automatically assuming he was offering me booze.

"Sorry, guess I kind of assumed." I apologized quickly.

"You drink Nos?" He asked. I smiled, knowing that Nos was House's favorite energy drink. Ironically, it was also mine. I had been inspired to try it after I saw House chugging it in a season three episode.

It was weird how I was just noticing how much the show had influenced my life. I truly believed my ambition to become a doctor had been a base desire I had possessed for a long time, but maybe the thing that finally made me decide on medical school was watching the show.

_Beats me._ But now it wasn't just influencing my life - it _was _my life. The home sick feeling returned, but I tried to shake myself out of it. When I was alone later, I would let my emotions takeover. Right now...

Well, right now, I guess I needed to get to know my new roommate.

I headed out into the kitchen, where House had gotten two bottles of Nos out of the fridge. House sat down on one end of the table, placing the bottle meant for me on the other side, facing him.

Ah. Now I understood. House was sizing me up, turning the sides of the metaphorical Rubik's cube I represented _This should be interesting. Or frightening. Or both._

I sat down across from House, uncapping the bottle. It was only nine o'clock, and I generally didn't go to bed until one or two in the morning at the earliest. I also knew that House was a night owl. It looked like I was getting some quality time with my hero.

Honestly, I really wished Wilson was here. For some reason, I felt at ease around him, despite only technically knowing him for a day. House, on the other hand... he made me nervous. Especially because at this particular moment, he was staring at me with his piercing blue eyes.

I felt like a lamb in the lion's den.

"So." He began, his drink sitting untouched in front of him. "What exactly are you going to try and fix? What terrible fate am I doomed to if I supposedly need some pseudo guardian angel?" He asked. _Doesn't waste much time, does he?_

"House, I don't think it's a good idea for me to tell you your future. It would probably just make things end up worse in the end." I said carefully. Not revealing House's future would be difficult. I wasn't good at hiding things for people. I prided myself on my honesty.

"Logic would dictate that if I knew what to do and what not to do, things would turn out better because I wouldn't make mistakes." House said, unscrewing the cap of his drink.

"Yeah, well, every time travel book, movie, and videogame would indicate that telling you your future is a _terrible_idea." I responded. "The truth is a powerful thing, House. You of all people should know that."

"Turning my own world views back on me? Kind of hypocritical, since you don't agree with most of them." He said, narrowing his eyes at me as he took a long draught of his drink. I mirrored him, doing the same before I replied. I could see a spark of amusement in House's eyes - he was enjoying this little Q&A session, despite his serious manner.

"I agree with most of them, actually. Besides your stubborn refusal to accept a higher power, I pretty much roll with your point of view." I said with a shrug.

"So what exactly is my point of view?" He asked patronizingly.

"Everybody lies. Perseverance does not equal worthiness. Most people are idiots. People don't change. Etcetera." I told him, refusing to drop his gaze. Earning House's respect was a monumental challenge, but I would have to face it if I wanted living with him to be possible.

"People don't change..." House trailed off, seeming intrigued. "So you don't think that someone is changed when they find this 'God' of yours?" He inquired.

I noticed the trap immediately for what it was, but I was quick with a response.

"I think we're all waiting to find who we are. Once we discover ourselves, we don't change. We'll always be that person on the inside. We can change how we look and act, but we can't change our essence." I explained calmly. House considered this.

"Okay, I'll play along. How does one, 'discover themselves'?" House wasn't going for an entertaining argument, I could tell. He was trying to gauge how smart I really was. Trying to see if I could keep up with him and his genius mind.

"It's different for everyone. I believe everyone has a defining moment in their life where they're truly shown the mirror to their soul, metaphorically speaking." I said, not missing a beat. I was always smart for my age - another thing I could probably attribute to my obsession with a certain medical drama.

"Oh? Well if you know me so well, what was my defining moment?" He asked, lacing his fingers together around the bottle of Nos. I tilted my head.

"That's actually a _really _interesting question." I said honestly. _Now I just have to come up with an answer. _It was weird, though. I didn't really even have to think about it. The answer came to immediately.

Problem: I couldn't tell House what it was.

To me, without a doubt, House's defining moment was his time spent in the burning warehouse. It was a mirror, held up by the people he had lost in his life (with the infuriating exception of Cuddy), showing him what was really important to him.

Not the puzzles. Not the vicodin. Not even himself.

Wilson.

I sighed, knowing that I'd have to give House a half answer, not wanting to reveal his future to him.

"You haven't reached the point yet, but let's say that in a few years you'll find out what's really important to you." I deflected. He let out a short laugh.

"Yeah, okay. I feel like I'm talking to a priest. Half answers and no proof to back up anything you say." He drawled, leaning back in his chair and lifting his drink to his mouth, tilting his head back as far as it would go. He was chugging it. Taking the silent challenge, I took the bottle and began pouring it down my throat, only pausing to swallow.

We both slammed our empty drinks down at the same time. Our eyes were still locked.

"I'm not here to make your life more difficult." I told him. "I'm here to make your life _better_. I'll help around the house, as soon as you get me a fake ID I'll get a job, I'm not going to just freeload off of you under the auspice of being your guarding angel. If I have any say, things will turn out differently, but in the meantime I'm not going to get in your way." I explained. I fully intended to pay House back for all the clothes and necessities he'd paid for. I already felt extremely guilty, despite House's financial security.

"Hard not to get in my way when you're _living _in my way." He observed. My heart clenched, and I desperately hoped that House wasn't rethinking his decision on letting me stay with him. Squaring my jaw and making sure my fears didn't show, I shrugged.

"If it's a problem, I'll leave." I stated simply. A glimmer of amusement colored his bright blue eyes, and a ghost of a smile passed his lips.

"No you won't." He said, pushing himself out of his chair, and began limping slowly into the living room. I knew from experience that House just expected people to follow him without giving them any indication that they needed to, so I tailed him to the couch, where he plopped down and flipped on the TV.

"I'm going to go get changed real quick." I told him. I had just noticed that I was still in my cobbled together outfit, and with my nice new clothes sitting in plastic bags just a few feet away, it seemed pointless to continue wearing it.

House simply grunted in response.

I headed into House's bathroom, taking one of the bags with me. I quickly stripped out of my oversized clothes and red bikini. The only thing I left on my body was my gold cross necklace.

I slipped on a pair of comfortable pajama pants and a tank top, which after a moment's decision I threw a hoody over. The tank top was a little too busty for my liking. _This is what I get for not trying my clothes on._

I headed out of the bathroom as I was in the midst of putting my thick brown hair in a messy pony tail. House was still sitting on the couch, and I wondered if this was House conceding that I would at least be tolerable to live with, or another test. I finished my pony tail, and then I considered him for a moment before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. I knew how much House valued his personal space. Plus, I was in major awkward mode. I mean, maybe I was just star struck or something, but everything kind of seemed to be in slow motion at the moment.

House had turned on _What's Not to Wear_. I stifled a snort, not even remotely surprised by his choice in program. I didn't mind. My best friend growing up had been gay, so I'd had plenty of experience with the show.

So, I sat there with a guy whom I had watched on TV for years, pretty much worshipped, and watched Clinton Kelly talk about how to make earth tones work in the summer. _Wow**.**_

I can, with the upmost honesty, say that I _never_ thought I would find myself in this situation.

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_A/N: Reviews are loved! Remember guys - any views expressed by Anya are not necessarily my own._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_A/N: Sorry for the update being a day late, guys. The holidays have kept me pretty busy. Merry Christmas, all! As always, thank you to my beta Wolfpack pride. :D_

_Disclaimer: House MD doesn't belong to me._

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Apparently sometime during the evening my exhaustion had finally caught up with me, and I had fallen asleep. I woke up to the sounds of clanging from the kitchen. It's weird waking up in such a strange and foreign place after sleeping in my own bed almost every night for most of my life. Unfortunately, I hadn't bothered to check my position on the comfortable leather sofa before rolling over. I had been precariously close to the edge and the movement sent me tumbling to the floor with a crash and a bit of swearing.

As I cracked open an eye and looked at the clock on the wall, I heard a snort from the kitchen. It was just barely nine. I knew House was always fashionably late for work, so the hour didn't surprise me.

I rolled onto my back and laced my fingers behind my head, trying to wake myself up. I wasn't one of those people who could just hop out of bed five seconds after waking up. I needed time to adjust to the waking world.

I was a girl who appreciated sleep. I loved sleeping, and I'd been known to snooze for twelve to fourteen hours at a time during the summer. Time spent sleeping was time well spent.

I sniffed the air experimentally, and caught the distinct smell of coffee carefully wafting its way through House's apartment. Although I was into coffee flavored stuff, lattes, frappes, and the like, I never really liked coffee. Not to mention, I didn't want to destroy my teeth anymore than I already had from my energy drink and soda guzzling.

I thought hard about the night before, trying to pinpoint the moment were I had fallen asleep. It turned out that _What's Not To Wear _was on in a marathon block, on until one in the morning. House and I had sat in almost complete silence watching the show that we both knew neither one of us cared about.

I vaguely remembered one of my last thoughts before passing out was trying to determine whether it was an awkward silence or a comfortable one. I now noticed that I had the thin blanket I had grabbed from the closet tangled around my legs. _Weird, I don't remember curling up under that._

I heard the tell-tale thump of House's cane, and I turned my eyes upward. The diagnostician was standing over me, an eyebrow quirked at me.

"Morning, House." I greeted, realizing how weird the words sounded coming out of my mouth.

"The couch is more comfortable." He pointed out, gesturing with his cane. I shrugged.

"Too lazy to move." He just rolled his eyes, as if to say, _"Teenagers."_

House picked up his jacket from where it lay on the armchair, and he leaned his cane against the wall as he pulled it on, wincing slightly. Almost immediately afterwards, his hand flew to his damaged thigh, massaging it roughly. I bit back asking him if he was okay, knowing he would just deflect and throw up his walls as usual. I forced myself into a sitting position and frowned at House. His eyes grew wide and he groaned in horror.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You have _the look_." He uttered, sounding genuinely appalled, but of course I knew that he was just kidding.

"What look?" I asked, humoring him as I ran a hand through my tangled mess of hair.

"The Wilson, 'I care so much I'm going to explode' look." He informed me as he turned away, heading back towards the kitchen. I heard the jangle of keys, and figured House was heading to work.

"I learned from the best." I muttered, standing up now. Neither House nor I had bothered to empty my new clothes and toiletries out of the plastic bags, and I decided that while House was at work, I had some unpacking to do.

House limped back into the living room and opened the front door, slinging his dark blue backpack over his shoulder. He looked at me, for once not seeming to know what to say.

"I'll be back later." He said finally. I nodded.

"I know." I tried my best to give him a half smile. "Have a good day." House, unsurprisingly, didn't respond, instead casting me one last glance before shutting the door behind him.

_I'm alone in House's apartment... _Although the fangirl possibilities were endless, one look at the couch and I knew what was number one on my priority list. I flopped back on the sofa, dragging my blanket with me, and fell back into a peaceful slumber.

**xxxxxx**

I woke up once more, and I felt much more rested this time around. I checked the clock, and it was a quarter to noon, much closer to my usual time. I blinked hard a few times to get accustomed to the faint November daylight filtering in through the windows, then sat up. I leaned my head back against the couch and breathed out through my nose.

On a normal day, I would get up and go say good morning to my mom and dad, head downstairs and chug some orange juice to finish waking myself up, then probably go call my best friend Maura and talk about something of no relevant importance for a few hours.

My mom, dad, and best friend didn't exist now, though. No one I knew or loved existed. _I'm alone._

And that's when it hit me. The shock of the past twenty four hours had numbed me for the most part, but the simple acknowledgement that I, for all intents and purposes, was alone, hit me like a brick to the face.

I put my head in my hands, and did something I did very, _very _rarely. I cried.

I'm not sure how long I sat on House's couch, curled into myself, sobbing quietly. I only knew one way to make myself feel better when just not thinking about it didn't work. I just let all the tears out until I was so tired, dry-eyed, and emotionally drained, that I couldn't really feel anything at all.

In Wilson's tragically ironic words, I 'let it out'. About forty five minutes later, I laid down on House's couch, my eyes and head throbbing, but feeling at least numb enough to cease my break down.

_Now what?_

My stomach growled, at least answering my question in short term. I forced myself off of the couch, bracing myself against it to support myself. I felt light headed, and the world spun for a few moments before steadying itself.

I padded silently to the kitchen, glancing around. I may have watched the show religiously, but even I didn't know where House kept the bread. I experimentally opened a few cupboards, and it soon became blatantly obvious that House wasn't a home cooked meal kind of guy. The most substantial thing I found was a couple packs of beef ramen. Most everything else was microwave meals, and the fridge held only beer, some lunch meat, and leftover takeout.

After a good amount of searching, I finally found half a loaf of white bread in one of the last cupboards I checked. Pulling it out, I checked the expiration date to make sure it was safe to eat (I took a wild guess that House wasn't one to care about those kind of things) and when I affirmed it was, slid two pieces into House's toaster.

I leaned against the counter, rubbing a hand over my reddened eyes. My eyes trailed over the apartment, taking in more details then I had last night. In the fresh light of day, it was pretty clear that House wasn't into meticulously cleaning the place. It seemed that with every second I spent at his home, I learned more about him.

A thin layer of dust sat in many places, and thin cobwebs hung in the corners. I brushed a hand across the counter, and a variety of crumbs and debris flew off. There was dirt encrusted in certain places on the linoleum, and it looked as though the kitchen sink and microwave hadn't been cleaned in a long time.

As my mom would have said, the house was tidy, but not clean. House didn't leave garbage just lying around, but he didn't go to great lengths to keep the place pristine.

A small ding let me know that my toast was done, and after a brief search for a paper plate, I had my lunch.

I found my way back to the couch, crossing my feet on the coffee table like House always did. I grabbed the remote and flipped it around, trying to find something to watch. Unfortunately, none of my favorite hour-long dramas existed in this world. It seemed like I couldn't watch an episode of any of my preferred shows without seeing a guest star that had also acted on House.

I ended up watching Spongebob. The show was a hell of a lot better in 2004, and it at least gave me something to stare at that held some nostalgia value. I munched on my toast, trying to figure out what I was going to do while House was at work.

I considered the state of House's apartment once more. It's not like I had anything better to do... I might as well tidy the place up a little: dust, vacuum, and maybe clean up the bathroom. It'd help keep me busy and it would at least pay back House a little bit for giving me clothes and a place to stay. As long as I didn't move any of his stuff, I figured House wouldn't care.

After I finished my toast and threw on a pair of jeans and a dark green sweater, I flipped on one of the music channels and listened to songs I hadn't heard in eight years as I set about cleaning House's apartment. I grabbed the vacuum cleaner, knowing it was probably something that House had trouble doing with his leg, and started with that.

The afternoon passed by fairly quickly. By four thirty, the entire place was sparkling clean. My house was an old country estate, and it took days to clean. This was a nice change. I made sure not to move anything, knowing that with House's hate of change, he probably wouldn't appreciate it. Hell, he probably wouldn't even like the fact that I'd clean, but I hoped he would.

I stood in the center of the living room with my hands on my hips, smiling slightly over my work. I had folded all of my new clothes and placed them in the small dresser that House had bought, which was right behind the sofa, which I guessed was basically my new room.

I sighed, putting my hands on the back of the couch and wondering what to do next. My eyes flew to House's computer. _Don't even think about it. _My rational side told myself.

_Oh, but it's so tempting... NO._

House may not have any qualms against violating people's privacy, but I definitely did. But in spite of my convictions, I found myself walking over to his computer.

I wasn't going to look or anything, I was just going to see if I could properly guess his password. See how well I knew the real House. It was the perfect test of a dedicated House fan. I just hoped that his computer didn't have a lock out system.

I tried the most obvious choice first. I tried 'password'. The computer made a sound of protest, and I bit the inside of my lip. Okay, only Chase was that dumb. _Alright..._

So I sat there for several minutes, trying the first couple ideas that came to my mind. I wasn't surprised to find that 'House 123' and every variation of it was bunk, but I wanted to rule it out. Next I tried 'Wilson', just for giggles, but it was also negative. I tried 'Everybody Lies', mainly because it was the password for my own computer, and since House had coined the phrase I figured it might be his password as well. Nope.

This was the most entertaining thing I'd done all day. I tried 'Stacy' and 'Cuddy', even though at this point in the series there really wasn't too much between Cuddy and House. I tried Stacy because I could see that being his password when he was with her, and he had just been too lazy to change it. Another fail, neither of their names were the passwords either.

I was running out of ideas a little too fast. I tried 'Okinawa' because of the relevance to House's childhood, but it wasn't accepted. I piddled around, typing in the names of bands I was pretty sure House liked, but all of them were negative as well. 'Cuddy's Ass' also didn't jive.

I breathed out heavily through my nose, and on a whim, tried 'Lupus'. It was rejected as well. _Of course. It's never lupus._

After ten minutes of fruitless trying, I made one last attempt. I typed in 'fun bags'.

Ding. Logging in as Greg House. House's desktop opened up. His background was surprisingly a picture of him and Wilson standing in the woods somewhere I didn't recognize. House looked years younger, and had no cane. I frowned slightly at it, but it was nice to see at the same time. I trailed the pointer down to the log off button and quickly hit it, already feeling guilty for even catching a small glimpse of House's privacy.

"Coward." I jumped so high out of the chair I actually slipped out and crashed to the ground, bashing my elbow on the unyielding wood floor. I flipped over, looking at House, feeling guilt coursing through me and my eyes widen.

"Oh my God, House, I'm sorry, I just, I mean, I wanted to see if I could guess your password, I wasn't snooping or anything, I _swear_, I just-" I babbled, but then I paused when I saw the amused look in his eye, despite his stoic expression. "Err, how long have you been standing there?"

"Since you tried 'Wilson'." He said with a snort, turning away to deposit his backpack on the couch. "I have to give you props for 'fun bags', I'm pretty sure Cuddy's the only one who would think of that one." I gave him a half hearted smile as I pushed myself off of the floor.

"I really was just trying to guess your password." I said, my voice half promise and half apology. House ignored me as he progressed into the kitchen. I trotted behind him. _I guess he just doesn't give a shit. _Just like on the show, it was hit and miss on what would piss off House and what wouldn't. "So, how was work?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"It was fine, honey." House said in a mockingly high voice. I rolled my eyes. "Shouldn't you know, anyway?" He asked, his voice returning to normal. He opened the fridge and took out a beer.

"Well, since you cured Rebecca a couple days early, I don't know if you got Dan's case yet." I told him honestly. I figured it wouldn't matter if he knew his next patient's name. House arched his eyebrow, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He leaned his cane up against it, then cracked open the bottle using the edge of the table, which explained the gouge marks on the edge.

I could tell that House still didn't believe me one hundred percent when it came to my whole, being-from-the-future-and-an-alternate-universe thing, quite understandably, but by the furrowed brow I guessed that I must have moved up the timeline, and he had taken Dan on as his patient.

I sat down across from him, gnawing on the inside of my lip. He sipped at his beer, examining me like he had the night before during our energy drink standoff. I noticed that House was much more prone to silence than he had appeared on the show. Interesting.

"So, how's Dan?" I asked, trying to break the uneasy lull in conversation. House let out a loud burp before responding.

"You tell me." Another challenge. I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"It was hard to keep track of days on the show, I don't know exactly how he is." House just continued to stare, as if he was waiting for me to continue. I relented, trying to drudge up the memories of the season one episode.

"He's a sixteen year old lacrosse player, and he presented with night terrors and double vision." I told him. "You noticed a myoclonic jerk in his foot or something, it's how you knew he was really sick and worth your time. Beyond that, I only remember a few things." I really didn't remember much else from the episode. I was a dedicated House fan, borderline obsessive, but I couldn't be expected to remember every single detail of every single episode.

House leaned back in his chair, sipping contemplatively at his drink.

"Foreman's running a radioisotope examination to look for a blockage. MRI shows what appears to be an anomaly in the corpus collosum." He said. I nodded.

"An upwards arch kind of thing, right?" He blinked in brief, subdued surprise before nodding. "And Chase thought it was viral meningitis, but you knew he was just guessing." Another brief flash of quickly covered surprise. "Sorry, you made me remember a few more things."

"I don't suppose you remember my patient's diagnosis?" House asked dryly. "In fact, why don't you just tell me all of my patient's diagnoses? It'll sure as hell save me some time." I tongued my cheek, considering his point.

House, nine point nine times out of ten, saves the patient (generally in the nick of time) on the show, so I didn't really need to interfere.

"House, if I know you're not going to figure it out in time, I'll help if I can, but otherwise I'm not going to stick my nose in it." I smirked at him. "Plus... I wouldn't want to ruin your fun."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, but fanfiction decided to suspend my posting for three days and take down my recent NCIS one-shot for absolutely no reason at all. Happy 2013, all! Thank as always to my beta, Wolfpack pride!_

_Disclaimer: I only own Anya, not House MD._

* * *

House raised an eyebrow. "Fun?" He repeated. I nodded.

"Whether you admit it or not, you love your job. I'm not going to screw that up by diagnosing all your patients for you. Not to mention, I don't have a perfect memory. Close, but no cigar. I probably only remember like half of the diagnoses on the show." I explained.

House seemed to consider this, but instead of responding, he pulled a rolled up piece of paper out of his pocket and tossed it to me. I deftly caught it, examining it. It was a birth certificate. Anya Carhart. Born on November 16th, 1986 at New York Mercy Hospital to Kelsey Carhart.

I opened my mouth to correct the year, but then remembered that since it was currently 2004, if I put my real birth date down, I'd only be ten.

I furrowed my brow, suddenly realizing I didn't know if I was seventeen or eighteen. My real birthday was September 7th, I was only a week out from being eighteen when I had fallen through the portal. Now it was November 17th, well over two months past my birthday.

_Eh. Might as well just go with eighteen. _Plus, according to my new "birth certificate," that was how old I was.

"I can't believe you got this so fast." I commented.

"I do work in a hospital. Forging this kind of stuff isn't all that difficult." House replied with a shrug. "Should be able to get you a social security card and a license within the next week or two. I know a few people who owe me some favors." He told me, gesturing for me to hand my birth certificate back to him. He took it, rolled it carefully, and placed it back in his pocket. I knew he'd keep it somewhere it wouldn't get lost.

"Thanks, House." I said, smiling slightly.

"Didn't do it for you. You need this stuff to get a job." He replied, unsurprisingly. In fact, I was pretty sure he said that in the show at some point.

"Right." I muttered, standing up from the table. "I'm making us some dinner." House raised an eyebrow at me as he finished off his beer.

"You cook?" He asked. I laughed.

"Yeah, I cook, but that's not a skill I really need right now, considering you don't have anything in this place to make a legit meal out of. I'm just going to make some ramen." I told him as I opened up the cupboards to grab some of the packages of beef ramen. Two would be more than enough for just House and I, but I paused. "Is Wilson coming over?" House shook his head.

"His precious tumor ridden patients were too needy for him to leave work at five like a normal human being." House snarked, earning a small smile from me. It felt familiar, House's sarcasm and general jackassery. It made me feel like I was watching the show.

Of course, now I wasn't watching the show... I was living it.

"I make mine a certain way, how do you want yours?" I asked as I searched through House's kitchen for a pot.

"They're noodles, not steak." House responded. "You cook them, you mix in the seasoning, you eat. And there's a pot under the sink." He pointed.

"Thanks. And I throw in a tablespoon of butter and maple syrup with mine." I informed him. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but it's seriously the best tasting thing I've ever had."

"Maple syrup?" House questioned as I filled up the pot with hot water and placed it on the stovetop. I turned back briefly and grinned at him in spite of myself.

"Yep." I salted the pot a little to speed up the boiling, then turned to lean against the counter to wait for it do so. House was slowly rising from his chair, a white knuckled grip on his cane. Once he was drawn up to his full height, he slipped an orange bottle out of his pocket.

Vicodin.

It was weird seeing House taking vicodin. Watching the show, I had always been so conflicted when it came to his pain management regime. On one hand, the vicodin helped House's pain and made it easier for him to function. On the other hand, House took way too many, and he had proven during his period of sobriety in seasons six and seven that he could operate without the pills.

I resisted the urge to jump at him and knock the pills out of his hand, reminding myself that at this point in the House timeline, his vicodin habit hadn't gotten ridiculously out of hand yet.

But it would. I was reminded again of the massive amount of responsibility that was sitting on my narrow shoulders. The power... the power to completely alter the course of so many people's lives...

House dry swallowed what appeared to be three pills, and I realized I had been staring at him. "Got a problem?" He asked as he slid the bottle back into his jacket pocket.

"N-no." I stammered. House snorted as he turned to walk into the living room.

"You're a crappy liar. And I'll try the maple ramen, but if it sucks, you're making me another batch." He threw over his shoulder. He sank down onto the couch, flipping on the TV.

The truth was, when I really wanted to lie, I generally could do it pretty well. Only problem was, I was a teensy bit scared of House. I wasn't scared that he was going to hurt me or something stupid like that, but as aforementioned, the guy was really intimidating. Along with that, I idolized the guy. The idea of upsetting him kind of made me want to puke on my shoes. Not to mention, I really just didn't like lying, even about small things.

I could hear the water sizzling behind me, and after crushing the noodles, I poured them into the pan and hunted down a spoon. I heard the TV in the other room. I listened as the _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ theme played, and I grinned. _House watches Star Trek. _I was a majorly closeted Star Trek fan; it was definitely my dirty little secret.

I let the ramen cook for a few minutes before straining out the liquid and mixing in the butter and seasoning packet. I also hunted down a bottle of syrup in the back of House's fridge and put just the right amount in.

A few minutes later, I plodded into House's living room, a steaming bowl of noodles in each hand. I wordlessly passed a bowl to House, and sat down on the couch only a few inches closer than I had the day before, the shortened distance barely noticeable.

"You cleaned." House observed.

"I didn't screw with anything, I swear. I know how you feel about people touching your stuff." I said quickly. His eyes flicked to me for a split second before going back to the screen.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why what?" I responded, confused.

"Why did you clean?" He clarified.

"Err, well, I was bored, the apartment wasn't exactly pristine, and I felt bad about basically freeloading off of you... so I cleaned." I told him weakly.

"Live in maid that makes me food. Hmm. I could get used to this." He commented, and I actually genuinely smiled at him. Did I just earn approval from House? I felt like I had a medal around my neck.

Mirroring our activities from the night before, we sat together in relative silence in front of the TV. After we finished our ramen, I merely gestured at House to hand me the bowl, and I went and cleaned them. If it took cooking and cleaning to make my roommate like me, well, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

After I finished up the dishes, I sat back down on the couch. A quick check on the clock told me that it was about six thirty. I looked at my clothes, which were dirty and dusty from my day of cleaning.

"Hey, is it alright if I go take a shower?" I asked House apprehensively.

"I don't care. Just be quick about it and don't use up all the hot water, I want a bath soon." I nodded, pushing myself off of the couch with a frown. I knew House's leg felt better after a nice long soak, so I made it my mission to get in and out of the shower as quickly as possible, which is particularly uncharacteristic of me.

Fifteen minutes later, I was raking the brush I had bought yesterday through my hair as I strolled out of the bathroom, clad in a pair of comfy pajamas. I heard House's voice, and I realized he was on the phone.

"Alright... fine... no, I don't, but unless one of you has any better ideas... yeah. Go tell the kid his life is over." House snapped his phone shut, looking disgruntled. I went and stood behind him, tossing my brush into one of the drawers of my mini dresser.

"Dan okay?" I asked, pretty much already knowing the answer. _Has he tried to jump off the roof yet? _I wondered.

"If you count having MS as being okay." House grunted, crossing his arms. I sank down on the couch in the same spot I had sat before.

"It'll take months to confirm MS." I commented, crossing my legs underneath me. I was glad that I hadn't watched "Paternity" in awhile, and I really didn't remember what he had. House would no doubt try to work the truth out of me.

"Yeah." House replied, looking unsatisfied. "Not to mention that's just a wild guess. We've got no clue what's going on with the kid, MS is just our best bet."

"Don't worry about it, you'll have an epiphany soon enough if he doesn't have MS." I tried to assure him.

"I'm not worried. I'm annoyed." House muttered. I suppressed a laugh. That was such a House thing to say.

"Well, until he presents with another symptom, you're going to have to continue being annoyed." I told him honestly.

"Wow, thank you for that inspiring bit of comfort." House replied mordantly. I pursed my lips, realizing our conversation just a hit a wall. I was really sick of sitting in silence with the diagnostician.

"So, um, when are you going to tell the team you've got a 'daughter'?" I asked carefully, not meeting House's eyes, but staring at the screen instead.

"Haven't thought about it." His answer didn't surprise me. I knew that when House had a case, there wasn't much that could distract him. "Maybe a mailer? Or better yet, hold you over the balcony and present you to the world as my child." he replied sarcastically.

"Hey, come on, take this seriously. You can't just be like, 'Oh, hey guys, we've got a new case, and by the way, I have a seventeen year old illegitimate daughter I didn't realize I had until a few days ago.'" I said, raising a dubious eyebrow at House.

"I'll play it by ear." House defended, sounding irritated. "Why do they even need to know?"

"It may look a smidgen suspicious if they find out about me later and wonder why you would hide the fact that you have a daughter. I don't feel like explaining what really happened to anyone when they'll just write me off as being completely friggin' crazy." I retorted, running a hand through my hair. "Listen, I'm just saying, you may want to bring it up to at least Cuddy, if not the team. She's more likely to be suspicious, not to mention she's your boss and she deserves to know."

"Great, now I have three mothers." House said, rolling his eyes. I gave him a withering look, but chose not to continue on the subject. I didn't want to push House too far on one of my first days of living with him.

"Didn't you say you wanted a bath?" I asked tiredly. He nodded, easing himself up off the couch, his grip white knuckled on his cane. A flare of pity that I knew House would hate me for burned inside of me. Without another word, House limped out of the living room, and within moments I heard the bathroom door slam behind him.

Alone again in Casa de House. Wonderful. I stretched out on the length of the couch and flipped through the channels. Next Generation was over, and I needed something new to watch. I settled on the news, which was always my fallback. Most of my friends thought it was weird that I kept up with the news at my young age, but I wanted to actually know what was going on in the world, thank you very much.

Most of it was either on the war in Iraq or the results of the recent election. It was so weird. I had fuzzy memories of 2004, and now I was suddenly living through it with clarity.

After a few more minutes, I couldn't take it, and flipped off the news. It was too weird. I needed time to adjust to being in a different universe and being eight years in the past.

The homesick feeling burned in my stomach once again, and I had to suppress a tear that threatened to spill out of my eye. My mom and I had been very close. I hadn't been away from her for more than two days in the entirety of my life.

I missed my family. I missed my friends. I missed my life.

I was living a fangirl's dream, yet in my moments where menial tasks or House's presence wasn't distracting me, it really felt more like a nightmare. I sighed, covering my head with one of the pillows on the couch. I needed to get my mind off of things.

_House's guitar..._

Oh, no way. If I touched his baby, he would beat me to death with his cane. I knew how territorial House was about his stuff, especially his guitar. Maybe if I strummed quietly, only played a song or two... House would probably be in the bathroom another thirty minutes or so...

_No guts, no glory! _I decided, standing up and letting the pillow fall on the floor. I padded silently over to House's guitar, which was on it's stand next to his piano, and carefully picked it up, turning it over in my hands. It was a beautiful instrument. It definitely beat the hell out of my crappy old Aria. I gently strummed, and the sound was so familiar a small smile crept onto my face. Music had always been my comfort when things had gone wrong. I played mainly the guitar, and a bit of piano. I didn't have a bad voice, either.

I settled down on House's couch and let my finger's play quietly over the strings. I closed my eyes, feeling more relaxed than I had since I had arrived in Princeton. I didn't hear any signs of House from the bathroom, so I could only assume he had settled in with a magazine or his MP3 player, and was paying no attention to the soft melody I was strumming.

I began to sing quietly, my heart lifting slightly as the first song I could think of rolled off my tongue.

_"Life's too short to even care at all, oh, I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing my control."_

I realized with a jolt that Cough Syrup hadn't even been written yet, the song wouldn't be created for several years. So weird. I continued on, the calming feeling washing over me.

_"These fishes in the sea they're staring at me, oh. A wet world aches for the beat of the drum."_

I felt like music was a piece of my old world that I could keep with me. Because, in all reality, the only physical evidence I had that my world even existed was my red bikini and the golden cross around my neck.

_"If I could find a way to see this straight, I'd run away."_

Still no sound from the bathroom, to my relief. I made a mental note that while House was at work tomorrow to jam more on the guitar, try my hand at his grand piano as well.

_"To some fortune that I should've found by now.__"_

Losing myself in the music, I continued strumming as I slowly became oblivious of the world around me.

_"I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down, come down."_

I played the rest of the tune, my soft voice singing quietly along with the equal gentle guitar. Several minutes later, I finished out the song, raising my voice only slightly as I played the last note.

_"One more spoon of cough syrup now, one more spoon of cough syrup now." _

I let my hands rest on the guitar as I opened my eyes and smiled slowly. House's guitar sounded beautiful, as if it had the power to guide my fingers off it's own accord.

"Not bad." A voice said from behind me.

_House._

* * *

_Author's Note: The lyrics to "Cough Syrup" belong to Young the Giant. Also, remember that the events of each episode won't go exactly as they did in the show, as Anya's presence has disrupted things, and also because I don't have season one on DVD and don't remember everything that happened! Reviews would be an excellent New Years gift. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_A/N: Alright guys, I'll be back to weekly updates on Monday now that my schedule is back to normal. Thanks for all the wonderfully kind words so far guys, it's very encouraging. :) And as usual, thank you to my beta, Wolfpack pride._

_Disclaimer: I only own Anya, the rest belong to David Shore and Katie Jacobs._

* * *

I began spluttering out apologies before I could even turn and meet House's bright blue eyes. Much like earlier when I tried to log into his computer, I expected to see accusation and anger, or at the very least annoyance in his gaze, but instead a dull amusement rested there.

"House- I'm sorry, I should've asked- I'm really, _really _sorry..." I trailed off, realizing that House wasn't looking for an apology. He wordlessly extended his hand, and I carefully passed him his guitar, my stomach doing flips in the hopes that he really wasn't upset that I had touched his baby without permission.

His hair still sopping wet from his bathtub, House limped over to the couch and sank down next to me. House had changed into a pair of his sweats and one of his signature tee shirts. His hands settled on the guitar, and he paused for a split second before beginning to play.

I was transfixed as House's skilled fingers (he blew me out of the damn water when it came to the guitar, that's for sure) combed over the strings. At first he played a slow jazz melody I didn't recognize, quite possibly something he made up himself, but slowly he played something familiar. After the first few notes, I identified it as Double Vision by Foreigner. I sank into the back of the couch, closing my eyes again without the fear of House creeping up behind me.

A certain amount of peace settled over me as he played. I wished that House would sing, knowing what a fantastic voice he had, but I wasn't going to ruin the small bonding moment between me and the older doctor with words.

As he finished, he moved into something else I couldn't identify, slow, and with a hint of melancholy.

The peace of the music was interrupted by House's phone ringing loudly. House closed his eyes for a brief moment before handing me his guitar and motioning for me to put it back on the stand. I obeyed, quickly scrambling up from the couch and placing the well-maintained instrument back where it belonged.

I hovered by the piano as House had his conversation with whoever had called him.

"House... I sense an excuse coming on... YOU WHAT?!" House burst out, nearly jumping out of the couch. I saw him massage his leg with a wince, a look of anger crossing his face. "You lost the patient." House repeated, running a hand over his face. "I'm coming. Keep looking." House snapped his phone shut, lifting himself up quickly. His leg seemed to be a little better since his bath, but obviously the pain never went away.

"That... didn't sound good." I ventured, crossing my arms. House began limping towards his bedroom.

"It's not." He replied cryptically before slamming his bedroom door. I stood awkwardly outside, wishing I had watched season one more often so I knew what point in the episode we were in. I knew at some point Dan tried to jump off the hospital roof, but beyond that, I didn't remember anything else that I hadn't already told House.

Within a few moments, House was out of his room, coat in arm, and heading towards the door.

"Whoa, hey!" I called, halting him before he left the apartment. "You're not going to just leave me here, are you?" I asked, trying to keep a note of fear from creeping into my voice. It's not like I'm afraid of the dark, or anything, but with my less than sublime mood, the last thing I wanted was to be alone at night in House's apartment for who knows how long.

"That was the plan." He told me, hand on the door knob.

"Listen, House, we need to get this cover story circulating at the hospital sooner rather than later, and... I really, _really_don't want to stay here alone right now." I told him half heartedly as I fidgeted nervously. He sighed, rolling his eyes and jerking his thumb at my small dresser.

"Fine, whatever. Get changed and be quick about it. We've got a patient to catch." I headed toward my dresser and slid out some decent clothes, and before I made my way into House's bathroom to change, he halted me.

"Hey." He called. I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "If you like your hands un-amputated, don't touch my guitar again without asking."

**xxxxxx**

House and I strolled side by side into the lobby of PPTH around eight, the crowd starting to thin out as night continued on it's path. My eyes darted to Cuddy's office, but the administrator didn't seem to notice House and I making our way to the elevators, as she appeared to be engrossed in paper work.

"You have any idea where the kid is?" House asked as we stepped inside of the elevator.

"Not at this point, no. You didn't hold up a giant clock in the show and tell us what time it was. I'm not even sure what point we're at in the episode. Season one wasn't my specialty." I told him honestly as I pounded the button for the third floor, nervous for my more in depth meeting with the original ducklings. "God, for once in my life, I wish I had been more obsessed with the show." I knew that eventually Dan would end up on the roof, but I didn't know if he was there now.

"So, you ready to put on the father/daughter front?" House asked, abruptly changing subjects. I grinned at the diagnostician. I was going to get to pretend House was my _dad_. This was going to be interesting to say the least, but with a pang, I realized I may never see my own father again, and my smile fell.

"Well, we should probably get our stories straight. My mom's name was Kelsey Carhart, you had a one night stand like nineteen years ago, and she didn't see fit to involve you in my upbringing. Kelsey was an only child and her parents were dead, so the only person left to take care of me when she died in a car crash was you. Got it?" I had confidence that House wouldn't screw up when we had to act our parts. If there was one thing he was good at, it was lying. House nodded.

"Where'd you live before now?" House asked.

"Just say I lived in Harrisburg. At least that part will be true." I replied with a shrug as the elevator doors binged open. A worried looking Cameron was waiting outside of the door to the differential room, her eyes immediately bouncing to House when he began limping hurriedly towards her. Despite him being crippled, he moved much faster than me, and I had to dash to keep up with him.

When we reached the doors to the diagnostic offices, we paused in front of House's new employee.

My opinion on Cameron changed several times over the course of the show. The first two seasons, well, she kind of annoyed me. Especially towards the end of season one, I thought it was kind of pathetic how pushy she was with House, and their one date was one of the most cringe worthy moments of the entire show.

Once season three rolled around, especially after she assisted in the suicide of Ezra Powell, I really started to warm up to her. By the time the original ducklings disbanded, I actually thought she was pretty cool, though Chase would always be my favorite of House's first team. I continued to like Cameron more and more in seasons four and five, but when she left Chase in season six, I was upset with her. I was a dedicated Chameron shipper, and I kind of just stared at the TV in devastation when she left Chase. Still, I guess I kind of owed her, or at least the hallucination of her, for getting House out of that warehouse.

I filed away my opinion of Cameron as 'undecided'. After all, my interaction with both Wilson and House had shown me that knowing someone in real life and watching them through a screen are two completely different things. I smiled at her as House thumped his cane on the ground.

"Where are Chase and Foreman?" House asked, cutting straight to the point.

"They're looking for Dan." Cameron's eyes lingered on me before she extended her hand. I blinked in surprise before taking it.

"Hi, I'm Allison Cameron." She said, smiling at me. I tried to remember how young Cameron was in season one. She was only a few inches taller than me, and didn't seem to have many more years under her belt than I did. I guessed she was only twenty six or twenty seven.

"Anya Carhart." I greeted her, releasing her hand and squaring my shoulders. I glanced at House, waiting for him to explain to Cameron my presence with him.

"She's my illegitimate daughter that I just found existed yesterday. Now go and find our patient." House ordered. Cameron's jaw dropped so fast it wasn't even funny. Actually, it kind of was funny.

"You...?" She trailed off, not really seeming to have any words for the sudden surprise. She swallowed and blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to compose herself. "It's, uh, nice to meet you." She said, directing the statement towards me.

"Nice to meet you, too." I responded. House gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Go. Patient. Find. _Now_." He waved off in some random direction, and with a last, confused look at me, she trotted off in search of Dan.

"We are really lucky this isn't later in the series." I told House as he pushed into his office.

"Why?" He asked. He plopped down in his recliner, leaning his cane against the side.

"There's no way in hell Cameron would have bought that if this wasn't season one." I explained, pushing his feet slightly to the side and sitting on the foot stool like I had seen Cuddy do several times.

"Oh, so she works for me for the couple years?" House asked, giving me a triumphant smirk.

"Shit!" I cursed myself. "I'm not supposed to be telling you things!"

"I'll have a blow by blow of my life wheedled out of you by tomorrow." He said with a snort. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Will not." I retorted petulantly. "I've watched you deflect questions for years. I pretty much learned from the master." I smirked at the withering look I received from the doctor.

"You really are a cocky little snot, aren't you?" He asked, but not rudely. _Oh my God, am I bantering with House? _The banter between the cast was easily one of the best things about the show, some humor to distract from the drama for a few minutes (or for most of the episode, depending on what season you were watching).

"I'd removed the 'little snot' part, but yeah, pretty much." I responded. A House quote (like usual) popped into my mind.

"Arrogance has to be earned." I blinked, realizing House had said it at the same time. We kind of just stared at each other for a second.

"Um," I said dumbly.

"That's getting really annoying." He commented, though he didn't really seem irritated. I noticed that House didn't tend to take much of anything seriously. He hadn't on the show, and that was one thing that held true to real life. I noticed that I had begun acknowledging House's world as real life. _Well... I'm living it... and it seems pretty fucking real to me._

"Sorry, force of habit. I'm a House quote machine. I could probably recite every insightful thing you said from season one to season seven." House tilted his head, catching on that I hadn't mentioned season eight.

"What about the last season?" He inquired. I bit the inside of my lip, trying to figure out how to respond to House's question without giving anything else away about the show.

"I only watched most of the season eight episodes once. It was a busy year for me, not to mention... eh, most of them really weren't that great." I said nonchalantly, hoping House wouldn't pursue the topic further and press for more details.

"What, my life get too happy for you? Not fun to watch anymore?" He asked, tapping his fingers restlessly on the side of his recliner. I made a motion of sealing my mouth, then tossing an imaginary key over my shoulder.

"How mature." he commented snidely. I was about to respond when a gasping Foreman and Chase plodded into the office. House looked away from me and focused instead on his breathless employees. "I'm guessing you caught our patient?"

"He nearly jumped off of the roof. He's hallucinating, thought he was on the lacrosse field." Chase explained.

"Chase had to tackle him to keep him from killing himself." Foreman sighed, brown eyes flitting to me. Fangirl-Me was about to explode, but I was trying to keep from either smiling ear to ear or tackling both of them with a bone-crushing hug. I didn't even like Foreman that much, but still. He was from House. Therefore, I pretty much had the inclination to worship the ground he walked on.

"Why didn't you tackle him?" House asked. Foreman gave him a withering look.

"I know I'm black, but Chase was closer." he said, motioning to the blond doctor.

Chase, on the other hand, I liked _very _much. Okay - I had a crush on him. I had my respective phases with House, Wilson, and Chase, but let's just say House and Wilson weren't getting any younger, but Chase was just growing into his lab coat and looking better by the season.

So, I internally took a very large knife and stabbed my Fangirl self to death to keep myself from looking like a complete and total fool.

"Hi." Foreman greeted me, apparently not knowing what to say on the subject of my presence. Chase nodded at me and smiled tightly, still seeming winded from the incident with Dan on the rooftop.

Cameron must not have dropped the bombshell on them that I was House's daughter. _Wait, am I going to have to call him Dad? No. Too weird. Can't do it. I don't care if it blows my cover. _I just couldn't call the guy I'd only technically known for two days Dad. Plus, I'm pretty sure if I was really in the situation I was pretending to be in (i.e. dead mother and new found father) I wouldn't be referring to House as my dad either. That's a title that's earned.

"Hey." I replied awkwardly.

"Oh, right." House said, eyes dodging to me before he addressed Foreman and Chase, "Meet Anya. My daughter."

"You have a daughter?" they asked in unison. _Guess House and I aren't the only ones finishing each other's sentences today._

"Yep." House answered, not elaborating further. I just shrugged at them when their bulging stares moved to me. "Well, he obviously doesn't have MS." House theorized, scooping up his cane from where it leaned on the recliner and standing up. He limped towards the differential room. Before he opened the glass door, he tossed me his pager. "Page Cameron here."

Foreman and Chase chanced a confused glance at each other before tailing their boss into the differential room. I stared at the pager in my hand. Fangirl Me probably would have freaked, but since she was now dead from exsanguination, she had nothing to say on the matter. I quickly obeyed House and sent a page to Cameron before pocketing the diagnostician's pager and staring at the differential room.

_Oh... it's so tempting..._

I now had two options. I could stay in House's office, watch TV or play his DS (he wouldn't have a PSP until season three) until he was finished for the night and ready to head home, or...

Or I could go be nosy and participate in the differential.

For a true House fan, it wasn't even a decision.

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_A/N: Reviews are always welcome. There will be more extended interaction with the team next chapter._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_A/N: Hello lovely readers, new chapter here. :) I'd like to thank you all for the reviews, follows, and especially favorites! Also thank you to my handy-dandy beta, Wolfpack pride for all the help._

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they aren't mine. If they were, well, House probably would have nearly died many more times and the entirety of season eight wouldn't have happened. XD I only own Anya!_

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I poked my head into the differential room. House was facing away from me, his brow furrowed as his intense blue eyes stared at the white board, willing it to give him answers. Chase and Foreman were waiting for House to say something, both looking wiped yet interested at the same time.

"Uh, is it okay if I hang out in here?" I asked, though I'm not sure why. I probably could have just sat down at the table without saying a word to House. House didn't even glance at me.

"Last time I checked, you didn't have a medical degree." House muttered, not devoting any additional attention towards my presence. I didn't respond how I wanted to, mainly because it would blow my cover as House's daughter. The words, _Yes, but considering I basically learned how to be a doctor from you, my input is actually quite valuable. _Nearly escaped my mouth, but I managed to bite my tongue.

"Must have left it at home." I replied mordantly, leaning up against the glass wall that separated House's office and the differential room. Chase and Foreman both looked at me curiously.

"Um... well, uh, the ogiloconal bands must indicate a brain infection." Chase began.

"Nice job breaking the awkward silence. Gold star for you." House said over his shoulder before turning to me. "Give me a good idea and you can stay, otherwise, go scurry off to Wilson's office or something."

Crap. For the first time in my life, my medical knowledge would actually be tested. I sighed, staring at the white board. Double vision. Night terrors. Myoclonic jerk. Hallucinations. I bit hard on the inside of my lip, trying to focus. I didn't bother trying to remember what anyone's ideas were from the episode, my memory was too fuzzy for that.

"Neurosyphilis." I suggested, hoping to God my idea wasn't ridiculous or stupid. The constellation of Dan's symptoms definitely fit, and it went without saying that the guy was sexually active. Sixteen-year-old lacrosse star? I knew guys in my grade that didn't have anything going for them, and they still got laid.

"RPR was negative." House replied, and I took a second to remember what the hell an RPR test was. _Rapid... rapid something. Rapid Plasma Reagin, that's it!_

"RPR's are false positives thirty percent of the time." I argued.

"Parents said he wasn't sexually active." Foreman added, his eyes glancing towards me, seeming confused by my medical knowledge. I gave the neurologist a look that translated into, "Come on, dude."

"Everybody lies." I responded. Over the years of watching House, I had pretty much jacked the diagnostician's catch phrase (and most of his more poignant quotes, honestly) basically because I agreed wholeheartedly with it. There was no such thing as complete honesty. No one tells the truth all the time, and fewer tell the truth even some of the time.

I thought I saw a ghost of a smile cross House's face, but a split second later Cameron pushed through the outer door to the differential room before I could be sure.

"I got your page, what happened?" she asked. House finally turned away from the white board to look at Cameron.

"Patient tried to take a dive off of the roof. Thought he was on the lacrosse field. Question is, why?" Cameron furrowed her brow at House's response.

"How did you get him off of the roof?" she asked.

"Apparently when push comes to shove, Chase is the brave hero who tackles damsels in distress before they can accidentally kill themselves." he replied before I noticed a spark in his eye, and I pursed my lips nervously. _Oh no. That the 'idea' look, but I'm pretty sure he didn't have an epiphany._

"He doesn't have MS, then." Cameron surmised as she took a seat next to Chase, eyes darting to me for a split second. "Why don't you sit down?" I smiled at her before glancing at House.

"Thanks." I plopped down across from Cameron and next to Foreman.

"So, Dr. Cameron, considering the new symptom, what do you think our patient has?" House asked, twirling his cane and tilting his head at her. _Oh God. Please, please let her have a different idea than me._

"Judging by the constellation of symptoms I'd have to say neurosyphilis, if the RPR test was a false positive-"

"I agree completely." House interrupted her. "Go start him on penicillin injections. Call me if anything changes, but _only_ if something changes." Without another word, House moved towards the door to his office.

"Dr. House!" Foreman called. "It's way too risky doing injections into a brain that's already on the fritz, especially a high volume drug like penicillin. Increased ICP could cause his brain to herniate and kill him."

House seemed to ponder this for a moment before looking at me. "Care to tell him why his worrying is completely needless?" I stared at him, wondering what the hell he wanted me to say. _Paternity, think!_

"Um... he has a shunt left in from the LP, doesn't he?" I questioned hesitantly.

"And the eighteen year old beats out the thirty two year old neurologist." House muttered as he left the room, leaving Foreman looking dumbfounded and pissed off at the same time.

"How did you know?" Chase asked, blond eyebrows furrowing together. I noticed how much stronger his Australian accent was compared to later seasons.

"House and I talked about the case earlier." I answered, not really able to think of any other way I would've known how Dan had been treated.

"Isn't that a breach of confidentiality?" Cameron asked carefully. I shrugged.

"House isn't all that in to ethics." was the only response I could think of. There was a long moment of awkward silence.

I sat there uncomfortably, the team all looking at me and seeming confused. I felt my face grow hot.

"I'm uh, going to go follow him." I muttered, standing up from the chair and making a beeline for House's office.

"Wait." Foreman said from behind me. I turned apprehensively, eager to get out of the room as quickly as possible. I obviously needed to tail House, as he was my ride home, not to mention I just hadn't murdered my fangirl side well enough to be around all three of them at once without throwing up on my shoes.

"Yes?" I asked, fiddling nervously with the side of my shirt.

"Are you really House's daughter, or is he just screwing with us?" Foreman asked. I almost had to laugh. Even only having known House for a short time at this point during the series, his team was still highly suspicious of him. Like I had mentioned before, it really was lucky I came in during the pilot, or else no one would have bought for even half a second that House was my father.

"Yeah, yeah he really is." I said, trying to appear troubled. I couldn't be all peppy and chipper for the next couple months. I had to act like I had really just lost my mother, and with a terrible sinking feeling in the bit of my stomach, I realized that I pretty much had.

Foreman nodded slowly, but Cameron frowned.

"And you've only known since yesterday?" Cameron asked for clarification.

"Yes." I replied, shuffling on my feet and looking away. "My mother, she died recently in a car crash. I never knew who my father was until yesterday, my mom left a letter for me explaining everything in her will. My mom thought I would be better off without him in my life. I didn't have any living relatives, so, now I'm kind of stuck with him until I finish my senior year."

I was actually kind of surprised by how fast the lie rolled off of my tongue. It was kind of unsettling at the same time, but this lie was necessary. Maybe watching House had instilled within me the ability to be a half-way decent liar, I just didn't know it. Being an alternate universe probably helped as well.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Chase said, and I gave the three of them a half smile.

"Thank you. I better get going before he leaves without me." I said, turning on my heel and pushing into House's office. I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. House glanced at me as his hand touched the door that led from his office to the hallway.

"Tea time with my new team?" He asked. I nodded.

"Yep. They wanted to know if you were serious about me being your daughter." I told him as I tailed him out of the office, scooping my coat up from where I had thrown it over House's recliner. We walked side by side down the hallway.

"They buy it?" he asked. I rolled my eyes.

"_Yes_. You were so vague about it they thought you were messing with them. The sad thing is, I can't even yell at you for saying it like you did, 'cause if you really did have a daughter, that's probably exactly how you would act."

"How do you know how I would act?" He asked.

"SHOW. EIGHTS YEARS." I emphasized.

"Speak up, I don't think the kids down in pediatrics heard you." a voice said behind us, and I jumped, though House didn't. I turned my head to see Wilson closing the door to his office, which we had just walked past.

"Hey, Wilson." I greeted him.

"Hello." He said, smiling at me before looking curiously at House. "Shouldn't you be home? It's way past five."

"Patient tried to take a dive off of the roof." House explained as we reached the elevator. I jabbed the button for the ground floor before House had the chance. Wilson, understandably, appeared confused.

"He tried to kill himself?" Wilson inquired. House shook his head as the elevator doors slid open.

"Nope. Thought he was on the lacrosse field. Chase tackled him down, and we got a new symptom: hallucinations."

The three of us stepped into the elevator, and I knew what was coming next.

"What is your team thinking?" Wilson asked.

"My_ team_ is thinking it's neurosyphillis." House replied. "And apparently she does as well." he said, jerking his head towards me. "Good to see your medical knowledge is just recycled from whatever my team or I said on the show."

"House, I told you earlier, I don't remember everything said on the show. I looked at the symptoms, the progression, and the other factors involved, and I came up with neurosyphillis. It's not my fault that Cameron came up with the same idea." I defended. Although I knew it would be a rough battle, I really did want to gain House's respect. This was definitely not a good way to start.

"Right, you and a doctor who's had ten years of medical schooling immediately jump to the same conclusion." House said sarcastically, thumping his cane impatiently on the floor.

I just glared at the older doctor, mainly because I couldn't think of a decent defense. Obviously I didn't know as much a fully licensed doctor, I mean, I was only seventeen. _Eighteen_, I mentally corrected myself.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to me.

"Test me, then. Give me a set of symptoms, and ask me what my medical opinion is on them." I proposed. "Then I'll be able to prove that I didn't just jack Cameron's idea."

"How about I give you the symptoms." Wilson interjected before House could speak. "House'll just be sadistic and give you a trick question."

"That... is probably true." I said, smirking slightly at House, who just rolled his eyes.

"Get on with it. You've got until the elevator opens."

"Alright... seizures, blindness, and lower-limb paralysis." Wilson offered. I closed my eyes, thinking hard. I only probably had another thirty seconds before the elevator doors opened, so this would have to be fast.

_Nature of the symptoms is neurological... I don't have any deeper information on the patient, no tox screens, blood panels, vitamin levels, MRI scans, so knowing Wilson, I should jump to the most obvious scenario, and not something that would require deeper knowledge. Also knowing Wilson, it won't be something overly difficult, but it'll be something obscure enough that House won't say the question was too easy._

"Err. Cerebral vasculitis?" I guessed, biting the edge of my lip.

"Is that your final answer?" House asked in a dramatic voice.

"Yeah." I replied resolutely.

"Close, but no cigar." Wilson said, giving me an apologetic half smile.

"One point for House, zero points for the faux prodigy from another dimension." House gloated, forcing me to restrain myself from nailing the diagnostician in the shoulder.

"Okay, come on, give me another chance, elevator isn't open yet." I closed my eyes again, searching through the possibilities I had earlier discarded. I had to at least partially pass this test.

"Final answer means final answer."

"Give her another chance, House."

"I'm thinking... polyneuropathy. CIDP, to be more specific." I replied, somewhat confidently, though still cautious after my previous failure. Wilson looked surprised and a little bit impressed. _Yes! Victory!_

"That's-"

"And how would you test for said ailment?" House interrupted Wilson before he could affirm that I had the right diagnosis.

"Um... you could either do a Sural nerve biopsy, or you could do a spinal tap and test for anti-ganglioside antibodies." I was really thanking God that I had volunteered at the local hospital for the past two summers, and for the fact that I had read medical journals out of interest since the show had ended. If I had just watched the show, chances are I'd be clueless at the moment.

"And how would you treat for CIDP?" House pressed, apparently not satisfied.

"IV immunoglobulin." I responded, not missing a beat. The elevator doors spread apart, punctuating the end of my statement. We moved out of the elevator as another crowd filtered in.

"Wow." Wilson said. "Not bad."

"Please. A first year med student could have guessed that. And she got it wrong the first time." House added, and I frowned.

"Not easily impressed, are you?" I asked, absent-mindedly scratching at the back of my head. House scoffed.

"Shouldn't you already know that?" he responded. Wilson looked amused, but actually spoke up to defend me.

"House, cut her some slack. Not many teenagers would have even understood a word of what's said in your differentials, the fact that she can comprehend them and then give informed medical opinions based on that information, it's astounding." I tried to hide how pleased I was by Wilson's glowing recommendation.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't you have a wife to go home and disappoint?" we stepped out into the cold, blustery November night, and I shivered, looking forward to the relative warmth of House's car.

"Nice." was Wilson's only reply. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck with your patient. Anya, good luck with him." he said, jerking his thumb at his best friend. I smiled a little.

"Thanks, Wilson."

"Oh, God. Are you two going to hug again?" House groaned as Wilson separated from us to head to his own car. I could hear Wilson's laugh echo in the mostly empty parking lot.

House pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his car with a small click. I blinked, rubbing a hand over my eyes. It was only about nine o'clock, but for some reason I felt exhausted, and I yawed loudly.

"Ready for beddy-bye?" House asked sardonically, sliding into the driver's seat as I walked around to the passenger side door. "Sorry, I'm short on bedside stories, but I can tell you about this seeping gonorrhea I had to look at in the clinic last week-"

"I'm good." I said quickly. "And I don't know if you've realized this by now, I'm actually _not_ six."

"Really? Could've fooled me." House responded as he started up the car. "Naive as all hell, four feet tall, and so tragically innocent that you make Wilson wanted to adopt you."

"I'm not naive, I'm over five feet, and I'm not _that_ innocent."

"Ever had sex?" he asked abruptly, and I was grateful for the dark car, because I'm pretty sure my face was glowing bright red at the moment.

"That has _nothing_-" I spluttered in response, but House cut me off.

"Ever done drugs?"

"No, I-"

"Ever stolen anything?"

"Breaking the law doesn't-"

"Have you ever done anything bad ever?" he asked. He pulled out of PPTH parking lot, and we were on our way back to his apartment.

"I've done stupid, bad things just like anyone else, but I have strong morals. That doesn't mean I'm weak, naive, or innocent, it means that I have integrity, something which I happen to pride myself on." I explained, trying to steer the conversation away from more private things I absolutely did _not_ want to discuss with House.

"Integrity," House began, pulling onto the main drag. "Is a joke."

_Well, this should be a fun argument..._

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_A/N: Review, good people, review!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Author's Note: Alright, I really like this chapter - I hope you guys do too! Thank you to my beta Wolfpack pride for the help! Also, my apologies if I don't post next week, my social life has recently imploded on itself, and I feel like it might take a bit of my precious free time to clean it up._

_Disclaimer: I don't own House MD, only Anya!_

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"Oh, I feel a philosophical debate coming on." I groaned, leaning my head back against the head of the passenger seat. House snorted.

"Integrity isn't a philosophy, it's a farce. Mythical. You offer anyone what they want, money, fame, power, and all those precious convictions and beliefs go straight out the window without a second thought." He explained, eyes focused on the road. I sighed.

"That's not true." I replied simply. I immediately wanted to use an example of one of the many times that House refused to sacrifice his convictions for anything, even his own health, but none of them had happened yet, so I obviously couldn't use that in an argument.

"That's it?" House asked. "'That's not true.'? Well, say no more, you have me convinced."

"You're the perfect example!" I burst out, deciding to focus on House's personality instead of specific incidents. "You are always sure you're right, you hold on to your beliefs - everybody lies, humanity is overrated, the layman's parables you live by - you wouldn't sacrifice your misanthropic world view for anything! That's integrity, House!" I pointed my finger in his direction. "You're a contradiction of your own statement."

"That's not integrity, that's a mixture of being a stubborn ass and having a spine." House responded. "If someone offered me millions of dollars to abandon my beliefs, gave me everything I wanted in life, I'd ditch them just as quickly as anybody else."

_But you don't! You risked your job and one hundred million dollars of the hospital's money when you botched that speech for Vogler! You never abandon your ideals, ever!_

That's what I wanted to say, but obviously I couldn't. And unfortunately, House must have seen the look on my face and figured that out for himself.

"You are biting your tongue _so_hard right now." House said, and I caught a hint of a smile from him as a stray street light illuminated his face.

"I'm not telling you anything about the future." I reaffirmed resolutely, crossing my arms and looking out the window.

"We'll see."

**xxxxxx**

I opened the fridge, hunting with my eyes for something to quench my growing thirst. House had already poured himself a glass of scotch, and with a sigh I realized the only thing the doctor had to drink in his apartment was Nos, beer, scotch, bourbon, and milk. I grabbed a bottle of Nos, in spite of the fact that I planned to sleep soon and an energy drink was the last thing I needed.

House surprised me by settling down not in front of the TV, but on the bench in front of his piano. _Keep calm. Do not have a fangirl attack. _I had managed thus far (for the most part) to maintain my composure, but I couldn't make any guarantees if House started playing the piano.

I had always loved the piano; it was the first instrument I had learned to play, though I had learned that my talent was more oriented towards string instruments as I grew up. Still, nothing sounded better to me than a simple piano ballad.

Especially one played by House.

So, I grabbed a medical text that House had left out on the kitchen table (_Curtis on Immunology_, which apparently was not yet being used to prop up House's piano) and plopped down on the couch, trying not reveal my hopefulness.

I flipped open to the first page, realizing what an incredible asset living with the world's greatest medical mind would be to my future medical career. I patiently began reading through the introduction chapter of the immunology book, patiently waiting (and hoping) for the tinkle of the keys on the piano.

By the time I had reached the end of the first chapter, I decided that it was more likely that House had just sat as far away from me as possible. I didn't really take any offense from this - House's apartment only had three rooms, not including the bathroom, so House and I were going to be almost continuously around each other. For a man that valued being alone and having privacy, it probably sucked.

As I began working my way through the second chapter, picking out various grammar mistakes made by the good doctor Curtis (whom I hadn't liked during "Whatever It Takes") but still trying to take in as much as I could.

"Enjoying that?" House questioned after the long silence. "Most teenagers read magazines, not immunology textbooks."

"I'm not most teenagers." I replied distractedly, focused on the text. "Immunology's always interested me."

"Is that the specialty you're going to pick in med school?" he asked, sipping at his glass of scotch, which he had refilled twice since we had arrived back at his apartment. The alcohol seemed to be loosening House's tongue to some degree.

"I don't know." I admitted. "I've been stuck between that and infectious disease. I'd do a double specialty like you, but I really don't think I can handle the workload." I stopped suddenly, staring into the distance.

"What?"

"God, I'm going to have to re-do all of those college essays!" I sighed heavily as I realized how royally screwed I was. "Great. I busted my ass all junior year to get accepted to a good university, and now I have to do everything again."

"You sure swear a lot for a so-called devout Christian." House commented offhandedly. A lot of people had observed that about me over the years; I was used to it.

"Bad habit I picked up from my older brother. I've been trying to reign it in... I'm just upset. I came dangerously a close to a mental breakdown last year with all the crap I had to do to get accepted to Brown."

"One of the many drawbacks of switching universes. I assume you're going to try and get accepted to Princeton?" he asked. I nodded.

"Might as well. I was actually going to apply back in my own world, but I didn't think my grades would be good enough to get in. I mean, I was a low A high B student. I was lucky I got into Brown with my academic standing." I explained with a shrug.

"Remind me to put good grades on your forged report cards."

"Will do." Silence again, only less uncomfortable, and more... companionable? I wasn't sure. I glanced at House, who was staring down at the keys, and I grew impatient of waiting. "Are you going to play?"

It took a House a few moments to respond. His fingers brushed the keys, but didn't apply enough pressure to bring forth sound. "Not tonight." he said quietly.

He grabbed his glass of scotch and rose from his seat, picking up his cane from where it leaned against the wall. Without looking at me, House limped towards his bedroom door, halting briefly at the threshold.

"See you in the morning." was the last thing he said before opening and closing his door, disappearing into his room. I sat on the couch, utterly confused as to House's abrupt departure, and the fact that it wasn't even ten thirty and the legendary night owl was already heading to bed. _I suppose scotch is an excellent sleep aid._

I exhaled, making myself more comfortable on the couch as I grabbed the blanket that I had folded and placed underneath it earlier that day. I spread it over me before punching one of the sofa's pillows into a more comfortable shape.

I curled up with _Curtis on Immunology_, trying to quell the questions bouncing back and forth in my mind. Mainly, _what the hell is going on with House?_

**xxxxxx**

For the second night in a row, I fell asleep without planning to, waking up to utter darkness. For a moment, I thought it was still nighttime, but then I realized that the black in front of my eyes was caused by the book that was open and covering my face.

_Hmph. Well, at least this is familiar. _I'd say six days out of seven, I fell asleep reading, which aside from watching House reruns religiously was my favorite hobby. I peeled the book out of my face, blinking rapidly to adjust to the pale morning light streaming through the windows. _Day three, _I counted mentally.

I lifted my head as I set _Curtis on Immunology _on the floor, searching the apartment for signs that House was still home. I glanced at the clock. Ten forty five. He had probably only been gone for about a half an hour. I wasn't surprised that he hadn't interrupted my sleep during his morning routine. For the most part, I was a heavy sleeper. It had been a shock when I had been awakened the day before.

I contemplated going back to bed, but then changed my mind and threw my legs over the side of the couch, rubbing my eyes with the my palms. _Ugh... well, I guess this is better than waking up at six in the morning to go to school._

I stood up and stretched, groaning as my neck popped. It was a lucky thing I was young, or else sleeping on the couch would kill me. It reminded me of House's six week stint on Wilson's couch at the beginning of season six. I was always lost on why Wilson hadn't immediately reconverted his office into a guestroom. I mean, for a guy House's age, sleeping on a couch must have been murder, add in the complications from his leg... I shuddered at the thought.

_Well, if I stop House from going to Mayfield, that will never happen. _I told myself, moving like a zombie in the direction of the kitchen. I really needed to start coming up with a better game plan for when, why, and how I was going to interfere with the House timeline without making things worse.

I poured myself a cup of water, then hunted down a jar of jam and set about making myself some breakfast. I made a mental note to ask House to pick up some real food next time he went shopping.

_What if it's hard for him to shop with his leg? Standing, walking around, pushing a cart with one hand would be hard, then loading the stuff into the trunk... _I blinked, kind of pissed at myself for not thinking of it before.

_That's why the cupboards and fridge are so empty. It's difficult - borderline impossible - for him to shop, but there's no way he'd ever admit it and hire a personal shopper or ask Wilson for help._

As I spread jam on my bread, I felt a sharp pang of compassion for House. He was so strong and proud before his infarction and the disastrous muscle debridement, to lose all of that and be left a cripple? No wonder he was miserable.

I sighed as I took my plate and cup to the coffee table, sitting cross legged in front of it in order to not get any crumbs on the floor I had just spent sweeping the day before. I turned on the TV, hunting through the channels until I found a decent World War II documentary to watch. I was a bit of a history buff, mainly because my mother taught twentieth century American history at my high school. Having your teacher also be your mom was kind of weird, but at least I always got an A in that class.

_What to do today? _I asked myself as I gnawed on the jam-covered bread. I suppose I'd just have to hang out in front of the TV and wait for House to get home. My eyes wandered around the room. There were plenty of records and books to entertain me as well, and I contemplated putting on one of the old records, but worried that maybe that was something I should ask House for before doing.

Books then. I pondered going back to _Curtis on Immunology_, but then after perusing House's bookshelves, I decided to busy myself with the Hounds of Baskerville instead, deeming it a more worthy way to spend the day.

So, for the rest of the morning, I engrossed my self in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work. I had read the entire set of Sherlock Holmes books before (the theory that House was a Holmesian analogue piqued my interest) but they were really fantastic books, so I had no problem rereading them.

It gave me something to do, and it alleviated my boredom. I couldn't wait for House to gather all the proper fake paper work so I could begin cyber school. I couldn't believe I was actually dying to go back to school. Back in my own universe, I had friends and family to spend time with. In this universe... well, everyone I knew was a doctor and an adult, people who generally don't have time to hang out with a bored teenager.

**So**the day went on, I switched between watching TV, reading, and lamenting over my own boredom. I didn't care if it annoyed House; tomorrow, I was asking to come to work with him.

House didn't come home around five like yesterday, so I assumed they must be reaching the end of Dan's case. Cuddy was probably berating House for his paternity bet at that very moment. I leaned my head back on the sofa, wondering what to do now.

_Why don't I just go for a walk? _I was eighteen years old, and it's not like I needed House's permission to go somewhere. Fresh air sounded like quite possibly the best idea ever at the moment, and it wasn't terribly cold outside for November. It was around twilight, and the sun had yet to go down.

Why not grab my coat and head out for a walk around the area? I had an excellent sense of direction, so I doubted that I would get lost, and I could just leave House a note in case he came home while I was gone, though it wasn't like he'd care if I was gone anyway.

So, I did just that. I grabbed a notepad from one of the drawers in the kitchen and scribbled a quick note to House.

_House,_

_I was getting a little stir crazy, so I went for a walk. I'll be back before dark._

_Anya_

Short, sweet, and to the point. I left it on the coffee table in the living room and grabbed my coat from the hallway closet before heading out the door. I felt frightfully unprepared leaving the house without a cell phone. I was never a terribly materialistic person, but I liked my stuff. My cell phone, game systems, TV, laptop, guitar; all the objects that had made up my daily schedule were a universe away.

It made me feel oddly... naked.

I shook it off, reminding myself that there were a lot more important things in the world than all my various toys. I walked down the entrance hallway of House's apartment building, opening the front door and breathing out a sigh of relief when the cold November air hit my face. It felt good to get out of House's apartment.

I walked down the steps, glancing up and down the street, wondering where I should go. To my right seemed to be the busier part of downtown Princeton, on my right seemed to be a more residential part of town.

I decided not to risk getting hit by cars (navigating traffic on foot had never been one of my specialties) so I decided to head west. I walked down Baker Street, taking in the scenery that House saw every day of his life.

The most any House fan could really ever hope for was somehow getting a studio tour of where the show was shot. No one ever really dreamed that they could literally go into the House universe, literally stepping through the TV and landing in a world where it wasn't actors and props and backdrops, but real people and places. Okay, pretty much every House fan dreamed of it, but no one thought it was a realistic possibility.

My mind was still caught in between "This is a pretty sweet deal" and "I have been sentenced to a lonely hell". I just desperately hoped that the novelty of House land wouldn't wear off anytime soon, or I'd probably be diving in random fountains trying to get back to my own world.

_Yes, because it's that simple. _I ran a hand absent-mindedly through my hair, wincing slightly against the cold breeze. I continued my way down the street, the only thing marking the passage of time was my feet hitting the sidewalk and the sun slowly continuing its journey to the horizon.

When I had been stressed out back at home, I would walk around for hours, just watching everyone else go about their business. Seeing so many other people living their lives right in front of me gave me a sense of detachment from my own problems, something I appreciated. I would get myself lost in the city until my mom would call me and tell me to go home, or I had cleared my head enough to head home on my own.

Obviously I couldn't strike out as far as I wanted to, with no money, no cell phone, and no real knowledge of the area surrounding House's apartment, but I could at least stretch my legs and continue in a straight line until something stopped me.

It turns out a sports field of some kind was what ended up being my dead end. I determined it to probably be six o'clock or so, and I was presented with the empty field and bleachers. There was no fence barring my entry, so I decided I might as well sit in the bleachers and relax for a moment before heading back to the apartment.

That's when I spotted a lone figure standing near the bleachers. From what I could gather at this distance, it was a he, and he was tall. Curious and wary at the same time, I continued on my way to the bleachers. However, I stopped dead in my tracks when a sudden feeling of deja vu hit me.

_This is a lacrosse field... _now that I was slightly closer, I could see a cane clutched in the man's hand. _House! This is the end of Paternity! _I wasn't aware that the case had been solved so quickly. I wondered how the timeline would work itself out in real time.

I continued on my way, but veered far enough to the left to stay out of House's direct line of sight, though if he was paying attention, he would definitely see me. If my suspicions were correct, however, House would be right in the middle of reliving a game of lacrosse from his youth.

A distant memory of watching Paternity for the first time, only nine at the time and already hooked on House after only one episode. I remembered it to be the first time a television show elicited any real emotion from me. The melancholy music playing in the background while House remembered the days before his leg was destroyed brought tears to my eyes.

Hell, almost nine years later, it was threatening to do it again. I kept a trained eye on House as I skirted around the back of the bleachers, ending up behind House, who still hadn't noticed me.

"Wheels, eighteen, wheels!" I heard him say, and I think my heart may have snapped in two at that moment. I was once more presented with two options. Let House know of my presence and talk to him, or return to the apartment and hope that I would beat him there (upon further inspection, I saw his car parked further down the block) and he wouldn't know that I was ever here.

Still deciding, I watched as House released his white knuckled grip on his cane, and put the rubber stopper back on the ground. I bit the inside of my lip, still racked with indecision. I opened up my mouth, about to speak, but then closed it.

_I've already seen the most private moments of his life that he wouldn't want anyone seeing... he doesn't need to know I was here. _House was an intensely private person who was already putting himself way out of his comfort zone by letting me live with him. I wasn't going to push him any farther.

With one last look at the diagnostician's lonely figure, I headed back to the closest thing I had to a home.

* * *

_A/N: Review? Anyone? :)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_A/N: Surprise! Thanks to Wolfpack pride's speedy work, I managed to churn out a chapter this week. I hope you guys enjoy, and of course thank you for all the support so far._

_Disclaimer: I only own Anya, everyone else belongs to David Shore and Katie Jacobs._

* * *

"No way. Not happening." House affirmed adamantly as he plucked his keys off of the counter along with his wallet.

"House, I don't want to start a big argument this early, because frankly I don't function well before noon, but I might actually die of boredom if I have to stay here alone all day again." I pleaded my case with the diagnostician, hoping that I could convince him to let me tag along with him to work. I wasn't sure when Occam's Razor was going to begin, but I expected House had a few boring days of avoiding clinic duty before the case came along.

Wandering around PPTH would sound boring to the normal person, but to me it sounded like a dream come true. I hadn't had much of a chance to explore quite yet. Not to mention, House still hadn't told Cuddy about me, and I expected that Wilson was waiting for House to bring it up instead of going around his back to Cuddy.

"What's the difference between staying here alone and staying at the hospital alone? I have things to do. I'm a busy man; I can't sit around and baby-sit you all day." House said, making his way toward the door.

"I'm eighteen! You don't have to! I can take care of myself."

"Then stay home." House suggested as he pulled open the front door. Sighing, I tailed him out. I had decided early the day before that I was not spending another day alone in Taj MaHouse so I was dressed by the time House emerged from his room. We had both gone to bed late that night. Dead Poets Society had been on, and I had convinced House to watch it with me because I wanted to see who played Neal now since Robert Sean Leonard was quite obviously absent from the film. House's running commentary had made it interesting, especially with his openening impression being, "So Wilson played the gayest guy in the film?"

When House had arrived home the night before, he had made no comment about the lacrosse field and gave no indication that he had seen me or knew that I had been present during his flashback, and I was totally fine with that. He had actually surprised me with takeout, which I was incredibly grateful for. We had eaten in front of the TV and remained there until after the movie was over at about two in the morning.

I was tired as hell, but I was determined. I stubbornly stepped in front of the door, facing House head on. _Don't throw up… don't have a fan girl attack… don't cry… don't curl into a ball… don't pass out._

Complete defiance. That's what I was going to do. House was not leaving this apartment without me. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Get out of my way." he said quietly.

_Willpower!_

I quickly stepped out of House's way and let him open the door. _Damn it, I'm weak. _But how was I supposed to just not listen to House when he was towering over me and staring me down?

However, I did tail him out of the apartment. "Still coming with you!" I said in a sing-song voice, keeping pace with him.

"God, you're like a parasite." he said, completely exasperated as the two of us headed down the steps of his apartment building.

"I'll take what I can get." I said with a shrug, pursuing him to his car and opening the side door, sitting resolutely in the passenger seat. House just stared at me.

"Are you serious right now?" he asked me, seeming an equal mixture of annoyed and amused.

"Dead serious." I affirmed, crossing my arms after I buckled my seatbelt. House continued to stare at me for a few more seconds before rolling his eyes at me and starting up the car, pulling away from the curb without further argument.

I tried to keep the self-satisfied smile off of my face, I really did... but hey. I had just strong-armed House. That was something to be proud of, if you ask me. The car ride to PPTH passed mostly in silence. House wasn't much of a talker in the early hours of the day, I noticed, and honestly I was the same.

When we arrived, House and I walked side by side into the hospital lobby, and I tugged at his sleeve before we could pass the registration desk. He looked at me, eyes flashing with irritation, and I motioned to Cuddy's office.

"It's time to tell the Mother Superior about your 'daughter'." I said pointedly.

"I still like the maid cover better." House muttered, though I could tell he knew that it was time to finish spreading our little explanation for my presence around. "Fine. But you're coming."

"Oh, now you want me along?" I asked as I followed House as he turned and headed towards Cuddy's glass enclosed office.

"You think she'll believe me if I don't sit the proof directly in front of her?" House asked as he settled his hand on the door and pushed it open without knocking. He strolled in, and Cuddy didn't even bother looking up at him.

I stopped on House's left, examining the last of the original House cast I had yet to meet. Her hair was thick, curly, and bound back in a ponytail of sorts (as she usually did in the first season) and of course she had the classic 'I'm the boss and I'm a strong woman' look going on, the low-cut blouse coupled with pants suit.

In regards to Cuddy, I had liked her most of the time. Her and House's banter had a certain quality to it that I always found entertaining, especially in the earlier seasons. My feelings towards Cuddy definitely cooled after she picked Lucas over House, but once they got together I was fan again.

For the last half of season seven, I quite obviously wasn't too much of a fan. Although I respected Cuddy for the most part, I resented her for all the pain she caused House. I was a die-hard Huddy shipper, and I was practically heart broken myself when they separated. _Mental note - don't let that happen this time._

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy! How are you on this fine day?" House asked loudly, jarring her from her work and causing her to look up at him with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.

"Busy. What do you want, House?" Cuddy glanced at me, arching a thin eyebrow at my presence. "Who's this?"

"My name's Anya." I said before House could make some smartass comment. "I'm..." _Come on, tap into your acting skills - fake it till you make it, right? _"well, I'm his daughter." I motioned to House as I frowned slightly and shifted awkwardly, trying to look uncomfortable with the admission.

"Daughter." Cuddy repeated. Looking at the two of us like we were insane. "You're his daughter?" she asked for clarification.

"Yep." House answered for me. "She's the product of a few too many Jaeger bombs and a bit of impaired judgment." I winced at House's explanation. Tact never was his strong suit.

"My mom never told me about my father." I said, trying to cover House's remark with further elucidation. "She died in a car crash not too long ago. She didn't have any family, there was really no one left to take care of me for my last year of high school." I glanced at House. "So-"

"So we're stuck with each other." House finished. "Just thought I'd let you know. A pay raise may be in order, now that I've got a dependent to look after..."

Cuddy bit the inside of her lip, and watched the two of us for a moment, and I would a hazard a guess that she was trying to determine if our story was true. "How old are you?" she asked, directing the question at me.

I actually had to stop myself from saying seventeen before I replied with "I just turned eighteen."

"I'm working on enrolling her in school. Until then I don't want to leave her alone in my apartment." House said. "I brought her here. I figured I don't have a patient, so she won't be a distraction. Plus, she wants to grow up to be just like me, so hanging around the hospital will just be great for her future career as a candy striper."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." I muttered. "So, is it alright if I hang out at the hospital today?" I asked politely, hoping Cuddy wouldn't sentence me to another boring day back at my new home.

"I guess I don't see any harm in it." Cuddy said slowly before rising. "Anya, could you give..." she glanced at House. "Can you give me a minute with your, uh, father?"

"Uh, sure." I said, backing out of the office as I exchanged a look with House before shutting the door of Cuddy's office. I rested my back against the door, waiting patiently for Cuddy to most likely give House the third degree as to whether this was all true or not.

Poor House. I was glad I wasn't in there for this. I waited idly outside of the door for a few minutes, pacing as I watched the crowd in the hospital's lobby thicken with morning traffic.

I was jostled from my position when the door was opened, and I stepped aside as House limped out of Cuddy's office, slamming the door behind him. He didn't halt as he continued on his way to the elevators.

"Is everything alright?" I asked. House seemed pissed off, and I kind of felt bad for leaving him alone in a lion's den.

"Well, first she asked me if I thought I was fit to take care of a teenager, after ascertaining who your mother was, then she launched into a lecture on doing clinic duty. She's revoking my treatment privileges until I start making an 'effort'." He growled, seeming thoroughly annoyed as we stepped into the elevator.

"But..." that didn't make any sense. House's treatment privileges were temporarily revoked in the pilot episode, not between Paternity and Occam's Razor. _But I interfered with the time... it bumped the whole clinic duty lecture ahead by a few days. _"Oh, I see."

"What?" House asked.

"In the original timeline she cut you off earlier. It doesn't really matter. But hey, look at this way! You'll be caught up in 2054." I offered him a reassuring smile, and House simply groaned in response.

"Well, at least you're being punished too - you get to sit around and watch me wipe noses and treat whatever flavor of crotch rot the idiots in the clinics have." House snarked. Honestly, hanging out with House while he did clinic duty didn't sound bad at all. It actually sounded kind of... awesome. Yeah, most of the patients would probably be boring as crap by House standards, but getting to watch him work and apply his usual brand of condescending sarcasm to his work would be pretty entertaining.

House must have seen the slight smile on my face. "Oh God, you're _excited _by it."

"I wouldn't say exciting, but..." I relented. "Okay, yeah, I find it exciting. What can I say, I'm enthusiastic about medicine, even if it is pretty mundane stuff."

"Lucky you." House said as we exited out onto the third floor, making our way to House's office. I furrowed my brow for a second when I saw Cameron, Chase, and Foreman sitting in the differential room.

"Why are they here on the weekend if you don't have a case?" I asked, tilting my head up to look at House.

"What, you think they have somewhere else to be?"

* * *

"Doctor Cuddy told me to give you these." Nurse Brenda said, handing House a thick stack of patient files. House grudgingly accepted them and leaned against the counter of the nurse's station and paged through a few of them, tossing them to the side as he did so.

"Cold... cold... faking sick to get out of school... cold... probably syphilis..." he muttered, barely looking at each file for more than a couple of seconds.

"House, I'm pretty sure you have to actually see the patients to know what's wrong with them." Brenda said tiredly, leveling a glare at the older doctor.

"I'm sorry, did you miss that class in med school?" He then made a face of mock surprise at her. "Oh right, you didn't go to med school!" House grabbed one of the charts from the thick pile and jerked his head toward exam room one. "Come on kid, runny noses to treat."

"Am I allowed to actually be in the exam room? I mean, doctor patient confidentiality, right?" I inquired.

"If anyone asks, you're my assistant." House responded, opening the door and heading inside. A young woman sat there with a small child who was gripping a frog toy. _This seems familiar..._

"I see here she doesn't take formula." House began immediately, not bothering to introduce himself or even really look at the patient. He dragged over a stool and sat to the woman's right, near her child. I leaned against the wall and smiled pleasantly at her.

"No formula, just Mommy's healthy, natural breast milk." she replied with a small smile. _Wait a minute... she's not the 'teeny tiny coffins' woman is she?_

"Yummy." House commented offhandedly.

"Her whole face just got swollen like this overnight." the woman explained, motioning to her child's puffy and bright red face.

"No fever, glands are normal... missing her vaccination dates." House pointed out, eyeing the woman and the child respectively. _Oh God. It is._

"We're not getting her vaccinated." The oblivious woman said, making the frog dance in front of the baby, which she giggled along with as she made frog noises. "Gribbit, gribbit, gribbit."

"Do you think they don't work?" House asked, watching the woman play with her child. _And here we go..._

"I think some multinational pharmaceutical company wants me to think they work. Pad their bottom line." The woman tells him, as if it's the most obvious thing in the entire world.

"Mmm." House replies, pursing his lips before extending his hand towards the frog. "May I?"

"Sure." the baby's mother responds, handing House the frog, which he holds in front of the little girl.

"Gribbit, gribbit, gribbit." House echoes, smirking at the toddler before examining the frog with a keen eye. "All natural, no dyes, that's a good business: all natural children's toys. Those toy companies, they don't arbitrarily mark up their frogs. They don't lie about how much they spend of research and development. The worst a toy company can be accused of is making a really boring frog." The woman, foolishly thinking that House was agreeing with her, laughed. House laughed with her, and the baby giggled.

"Um, Dr. House..." I interjected slightly, really thinking that maybe House shouldn't continue with his thinly veiled 'you're an idiot' speech, because if my memory was correct, the punch line was coming.

"Assistants are to be seen and not heard." House chimed. "Gribbit, gribbit, gribbit. You know what's another really good business? Teeny tiny baby coffins. You can get them in frog green or fire engine red. Really. The antibodies in yummy mummy only protect the kid for 6 months, which is why these companies think they can gouge you. They think that you'll spend whatever they ask to keep your kid alive. Want to change things? Prove them wrong. A few hundred parents like you decide they'd rather let their kid die then cough up forty bucks for a vaccination, believe me, prices will drop _really_fast. Gribbit, gribbit, gribbit, gribbit, gribbit."

I couldn't help it; I cringed. On TV, it was funny - in real life, it was still kind of funny, but also astoundingly insensitive. The woman just gaped at House for a straight minute as he continued to play with the frog.

"Tell me what she has!" the woman finally demanded. House handed the frog back to her and grabbed the chart where he had laid it on the exam table. He rose from his stool and grabbed his cane.

"A cold." he said over his shoulder as he exited the exam room without another word. The woman stared at me as House left, apparently expecting me to give her some kind of guidance.

"Um," I said. "sorry about that. He's kind of straightforward. But he is right, you should really get her vaccinated."

"Does she really have a cold?"

"I would say so, yes. Just give her a lot of fluids and keep an eye on her, bring her back in if her symptoms become more severe." I instructed in my best doctor-voice. The woman nodded slowly, glancing at her child and biting her lip.

"Alright." she said as I exited the room and chased after House.

"No wonder you get so many lawsuits. You're as delicate as a bulldozer." I sighed, coming to stand next to House at the counter.

"The woman's an idiot." House said, nonplussed.

"The woman is worried about her kid."

"Still an idiot!" House responded. "Come on, looks like we've got our first STD of the day - this should be a blast."

_Oh, joy._

* * *

_A/N: Shout-out to Visitkarte for telling me about clinic duty (a livejournal that provides transcripts of every House episode), it's immensely helpful. Thanks! Please drop me a review to let me know how I did, guys. :D_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_A/N: Thanks as always to my beta Wolfpack pride for all the help, and to all you lovely readers out there._

_Disclaimer: I do not own House MD, and the lyrics to "Animal" belong to Suzanna Chofel._

* * *

"House, I really don't think that woman enjoyed your 'advice'." I said as House finished with yet another patient, who was even more disgruntled than the rest. House slapped the file down on the desk before checking his watch.

"God, we've been down here two hours. It's lunch time." House declared with a sigh of relief. "And if she doesn't want to run out of breath walking up the stairs, then maybe she should stop shoveling Big Macs down her throat."

"Well, I'd give you some speech about sensitivity and telling people that they're idiots in a nice way, but I've learned from watching eight years of Wilson trying to do it that lecturing is generally lost on you." I said as we began heading towards the hallway on the ground floor that led to the cafeteria.

"Now, if only _he _would learn that." House grouched. "Speaking of the Oncologist Boy Wonder, he's probably in the cafeteria now."

"Well, thank goodness. Who knows what you would do if you didn't have Wilson there to steal food from." I giggled slightly. House snorted in response. Before he could say something else, I decided to bring up the shopping thing I had observed yesterday.

"Um, hey, I was wondering... could we go shopping sometime tomorrow, maybe? The cupboards are kind of bare." I ventured, glancing at House.

"_We _would imply that it's not just my money that's being spent."

"I'd apologize again for freeloading, but last time you said something about me not grasping sarcasm." I replied dryly. "Seriously though. I don't even think there's anything in the apartment to eat for dinner."

"That's what takeout's for." House responded evasively. I suppressed a sigh. I was going to have to bring up the reason I thought House did so little shopping.

"Listen, House..." I absent-mindedly scratched at the back of my neck, trying to figured out how to phrase this right. "If you want, you can just give me a list, and I can go to the store so you don't have to..."

"Don't have to what?" he asked sharply.

"Well... your leg..." House didn't look at me as we continued our way down the hallway. I decided to just go about this the House way - blunt and straightforward. "Okay, screw this. House, I would imagine that it probably makes your leg hurt walking around pushing a shopping cart for hours. Now that I'm here, there's no reason to give yourself the extra pain. If you don't trust me with the car, I can just take a bus and pick up whatever groceries you want - including real food - and then ride the bus back to the apartment." There. I said it. I waited anxiously for House's reaction, knowing that there was really only one thing House was even close to sensitive about - his leg.

"You do realize you don't have a license in this universe, right?"

"I seriously doubt I would get pulled over. I drive like an old woman, and even if I _did _get pulled over, I'm pretty sure I could charm my way out." I said with a shrug. House let out a long breath through his nose before addressing me again.

"Fine, whatever. Just don't get any healthy crap; if it's green, I'm not eating it." he warned. _And success!_

House opened up the door to the cafeteria as we reached it, and as he had predicted, Wilson was in a booth in the corner, working his way through what appeared to be half of a tuna melt and a basket of fries.

House reached into his pocket and produced a few bills, shoving them into my hand. "Get some lunch." He told me before limping quickly over to Wilson and leaving me behind.

"Uh... okay." I stammered, even though House was already out of earshot. I hazarded a guess that House wanted a little alone time with Wilson before I came and sat down... most likely to talk about me...

I was tempted to eavesdrop, but I knew House would catch me at it, so I made my way into the line to stand behind a pink-clad nurse. As the line moved, I couldn't help my eyes wandering to House and Wilson's booth. House had predictably taken the other half of Wilson's sandwich and was talking through a full mouth, Wilson listening attentively.

I grabbed up a chicken finger basket and apple juice box and brought it to the cashier, who I noticed wiped her nose with her sleeve as she told me how much I owed. I was suddenly hit with a flashback of sorts that caused me to zone out for a moment.

_"The lady back there, who made your egg-salad sandwich. Her eyes look glassy, did you notice that? Now hospital policy is to stay home if you're sick, but if you're making eight dollars an hour, then you kind of need the eight dollars an hour right? The sign in the bathroom says that employees must wash after using the facilities, but I figure that somebody who wipes snot on a sleeve isn't hyper concerned about sanitary conditions."_

Oh God. That was in the pilot, wasn't it? Right around this time... and the chick tallying up my order looked awfully familiar...

"Err, on second thought, take off the chicken and just give me a bag of pretzels." the woman gave me an annoyed glance before exchanging the hot food for the bag of munchies, and I handed her a few dollars and told her to keep the change.

I headed over to House and Wilson's booth and slid in next to House, feeling incredibly awkward. I felt like I had just gone in a room with a 'boys only' sign taped on the outside.

"Hi, Wilson." I greeted the oncologist.

"Hey. Going light today?" he said, gesturing at my small lunch. I shrugged.

"Cafeteria lady's sick. I really didn't feel like eating anything she prepared." I explained. House narrowed his eyes at me.

"How did you know that?" he inquired. I smirked at him.

"In the original timeline you got into an argument with Foreman, and you used her as an example that implicit trust is foolish by pointing out the sickly cafeteria lady who came to work anyway." I explained, tearing open my pretzel bag.

"Why didn't it happen in this timeline?" Wilson asked, thick eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I interfered and Rebecca got cured three or four days early." I told them as I began sipping my juice box.

"You screwed up a chance for me to lord my intelligence and world views over others?" House snorted. "Some guardian angel you are."

"What a tragic loss." Wilson said sardonically. "What will House do if you keep stealing his opportunities to be an asshole?"

I just stared at him for a long moment. _Wilson just said asshole? Cannot compute. _House waved his hand in front of my face.

"What, you can swear like a sailor but Uncle Jimmy has to keep it clean?" House asked as he finished off his half of Wilson's sandwich.

"Sorry... just keep in mind, you guys generally had the eight or nine o'clock time slot on Fox, so your language had to be kept fairly clean. The worst I ever heard out of you mouth," I indicated I was talking to Wilson. "was 'dick'. I mean, you guys said ass and bastard all the time -" I looked pointedly at House. "but you could never say asshole, shit, fuck, etc."

"Well, welcome to the real world, kid. No censors. I can pants Wilson and prove that nothing's blurred out either, if you want." House joked as Wilson rolled his eyes. I imagined my face probably turned a very interesting shade of crimson.

"I've been here four days and I'm still not getting used to this..." I muttered, munching halfheartedly on the end of a pretzel.

"You're adjusting surprisingly well, considering." Wilson commented. "A week ago, we were your idols, and now you're living with House and get to basically live out a fan's dream, but you seem to be staying pretty calm."

"On the outside, yeah. You aren't seeing the internal battle going on inside. I've been on the verge of hysterical fangirl tears and/or fainting for the past few days." I told them honestly. Although I was getting slightly used to being around House, a lot of times I found myself looking at him and just resisting the urge to let out a loud, high pitched scream and give him a hug, but my rational side had so far managed to stay in control.

"I suck at trust falls." House warned me sarcastically. I laughed slightly as I finished off my bag of pretzels, crumpling it up and tossing it into a nearby trashcan.

"I wonder why," Wilson said, smirking slightly. "Don't you have clinic duty to be doing?"

"My union mandated lunch break is only half over." House replied. "I'm milking every last minute before Mistress Cuddy hunts me down and drags me back to the Dungeon of Never Ending Boredom."

"I've got a department meeting in about ten minutes, so I've got to go." Wilson said, scooting out of his booth and tossing us a wave. "I'll see you guys later."

"Pizza and bad movies tonight?" House asked, a hint of a smirk forming on his face.

"Your place, I'm assuming?"

"I said pizza and bad movies, not pizza, bad movies, and your bitchy wife."

"Your place it is." Wilson acquiesced before heading off in the opposite direction and out of the cafeteria. House poked at my foot with his cane, jerking his head toward the door Wilson had just gone through.

"Move it." House said, and I quickly evacuated the booth and gave the diagnostician a wide enough birth so he could stand. "I'm going to go-"

"To Coma Guy's room and play your DS?" I finished for him. He paused for a second before nodding.

"Yeah. Hopefully Cuddy won't find me there. I've already done three hours of clinic duty today. Anymore and I might literally die from boredom."

"Okay. When are you leaving tonight?" I asked as we made our way to the door.

"Five."

"I'll meet you in the lobby around then. Do you care if I go explore?" House gave me a look that expressed how ridiculous the question was without words. "Right. Of course you don't." I gave House a small smile. "See you later."

He grunted something in response that could have been a 'bye', but I wasn't quite sure. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy being around him, I did - but the perpetual state of nervousness I felt around House had set me slightly on edge, along with the fact that I knew House had the tendency to be a loner, and if I could give him a break from my presence to make the change of suddenly being saddled with a teenager easier, I'd be happy to wander around for a few hours.

House headed off down a hallway to our left - the long term patient ward, I assumed, and I was left with a whole host of ways to spend my day. It was a bit like being in a theme park for the first time. I knew all of the attractions, but I couldn't decide which one to go to first.

I decided to just explore. It looked like I would be spending a lot of time at PPTH (better there than House's apartment) so it seemed like a good idea to familiarize myself with the layout. I made my way down one on the adjacent corridors, swinging my head around to try and recognize certain spots from the show.

After a few minutes, I found myself in the OR, which I had always figured was on the first floor, as the observation gallery looked down on it. The waiting room was dotted with grave looking people waiting for their loved ones to come out of surgery, and decided that this wasn't a place I should be.

Onward, then. I knew that the Oncology ward was on the second floor, I didn't have a clue what was on the fourth or fifth floor, diagnostics was on the third, and the first floor had the lobby, clinic, cafeteria, the ER, and the OR. I made my way to the nearest elevator to further investigate the second floor, as I was pretty sure the fourth must be the psych ward and rehab unit.

Once on the second floor, I continued to wander around. The cardiology unit turned out to be on the second floor, adjacent to oncology. I thought once that I might have glimpsed the back of Wilson's head as he went off in the opposite direction, but I wasn't quite sure.

I heard the sound of children's laughter coming from the end of a nearby corridor, and figured that pediatrics must be towards that direction. With a slight shrug of my shoulders, I followed the sound. A few seconds later, I found myself staring at about thirteen children**. **The younger ones were laughing at a nurse who seemed to be doing an impromptu trick of pulling a quarter out of her ear and the others, closer to puberty or passed it, looked slightly bored.

I noticed a guitar sitting off to the side, and another nurse waiting with a concerned look on her face outside the nearby men's restroom. The woman doing the trick looked at me, and I lifted a hand.

"Hi," I greeted. "I didn't mean to interrupt, I'm just exploring."

"Welcome to pediatrics." she said, stepping away from the kids and offering me a hand. "I'm Brandy." I shook it.

"Anya. Is everything okay here? The kids look kind of..."

"Restless?"_I was going to say bored, but sure._

"Yeah." I replied. The nurse, Brandy, sighed.

"We have a local musician, Jon Reynolds, come in and play guitar for them on Saturdays, but he must have eaten something that didn't agree with him." she winced as I now heard the sound of someone retching coming from the bathroom. "It's one of the highlights of their week. He plays for them for a few hours, but halfway through the first song..." she grimaced and motioned towards the bathroom.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I said, frowning at the woman and not sure what I was supposed to do. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, and the woman narrowed her own at me.

"Do you play, by any chance?" I didn't know if Brandy was just desperate enough to give the kids some kind of entertainment that she would ask a random teenager, or if she had noticed the tell-tale calluses of a guitar player on my hands. I guessed the first one.

"Well, yeah, but I've never really played in front of people before..." I told the pediatrics nurse honestly. The only people who ever heard me play or sing were my family, and that wasn't my choice, but a consequence of proximity. It's not that I was uncomfortable playing in front of others... I just had never really attempted it or felt the need to. I played music for myself, not for others.

"Please, I don't want to disappoint them. Anything you can do is better than nothing." Brandy pleaded with me, and my arm seemed to move without my consent as I moved forward to grab the neck of the acoustic guitar that the sick performer had left behind.

"Alright, I'll try my best." the woman smiled at me gratefully, and I walked slowly to the stool set in front of the small crowd of children. I saw kids from the age of four all the way up to kids probably only a year or two junior to myself. Some had no hair. Some were in wheelchairs. Some seemed perfectly fine, though I knew they weren't.

Human suffering. I'd never been a fan. This is why I wanted to be a doctor. I couldn't stop the tide of sickness and misery, but I could at least try to stem it. Make this crowd of melancholy children a little bit smaller.

But for now, all I could do was play them a song. It seemed a pitiful offering, but it was the best I could give them. I settled down on the stool and smiled at the small crowd in front of me.

"Hey guys." I greeted. "Jon's not feeling too good, so I'm going to play you a song." _Shit, do I even know any kind of child-appropriate songs? _"So, err, here we go..." I picked the first tune I could think of that didn't have any swear words, and fell quickly into the opening melody.

The children were perfectly silent, the ideal audience. Polite but full attention. For me, it was the perfect situation for my first performance.

_"What kind of animal are you? Do you take small steps, do you follow it through?"_

I was more nervous about my guitar skills than my vocal skills. I had always found that my voice was a much easier tool to hone than the guitar. After all, you could sing at anytime, endless opportunities for practice... I couldn't exactly bring the guitar into the shower, now could I?

_"Do you say how do you do? Are you a burrower, do you like the sun?"_

It appeared that I still had the rapt attention of the Pedes unit, so I continued on, my confidence slowly growing with each note.

_"When the wind starts to blow do you walk or do you run? I'm just trying to figure out if you're the one."_

I realized that I was singing yet another song that hadn't even been written yet. Animal was released in 2011... seven years from now. If anyone asked the name of the song, I would just have to deflect and say I didn't quite remember, because I certainly wasn't going to take credit for a song that I hadn't written myself.

_"'Cause long ago I was a pair, my other half he went somewhere."_

I continued on with the song, and the eyes of the audience were either focused on my face or my fingers, and I did my best not to disappoint their expectations, though I didn't know what said expectations were.

I finished off the song with the final lines, and overall, I found I was satisfied with my performance.

_"See, I'm an animal and you're an animal too... what kind are you, what kind are you?" _I finished, smiling at the kids. I was surprised by the return of my smile along with several bouts ofapplause. _Cool._

I looked at Brandy, and she silently beseeched me to continue. She said that Jon typically played for several hours... could I even do that? Did I know enough songs? I guess it didn't really matter; I was about to find out.

So that's how I spent my day. I wiled away the afternoon playing whatever tune struck my fancy to the pediatrics kids, and they, ever the polite audience, listened and seemed to enjoy themselves to some degree. The few genuine grins I saw let a feeling of warmth settle in me.

The sun was starting to head towards the horizon when I finally settled my hands on the neck of guitar, thoroughly out of songs to play, my arms and fingers aching from playing for so long. Brandy seemed to notice this, and nodded with a satisfied smile on her face.

"How about we thank Anya for playing for us, guys?" Brandy asked, and all the children did the classic schoolroom echo of "Thank you, Anya."

"Uh, you're welcome." I said, smiling awkwardly. "You guys were fun to play for." I gingerly handed the guitar I had been using to Brandy, for her to return to Jon later. Jon was now in the ICU, having been diagnosed with a severe gastrointestinal virus. I felt bad for the guy, he had to have two nurses help him out of Pediatrics, and he had been sweating up a storm.

"Thank you so much." Brandy told me in a quiet voice. "If you ever want to come back, let me know. The kids loved you. Do one of your parents work at the hospital?" she asked me, causing me to pause for a second before answering.

"Err... yeah. Yeah, my father works here." I had to suppress a wince.

"Great, remember - anytime." she told me once more before strolling away to herd the kids back to their rooms.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_Disclaimer: I do not own House MD, only Anya and her silly fangirling._

* * *

I checked a clock on a nearby wall, and saw that it was 5:15. I was supposed to meet House in the lobby fifteen minutes ago. _Crap. _I decided that instead of going to the lobby to see if he was waiting there or if he had left, I would just go to the diagnostics offices to see if his things were still there or not.

I disappeared into the elevator, and moments later I was strolling down the third floor corridor. I looked through the glass wall of the differential room to see House's team at the table. Cameron was pouring over a book, glasses pushed down the bridge of her nose. Chase was working idly on a crossword puzzle, pencil end in his mouth, and Foreman appeared to be asleep.

My hand found the door handle, and I pushed it open enough for me to peek my head in. "Hey."

Cameron and Chase both looked up from their respective distractions to glance at me, and Foreman peeled open an eyelid. The title 'ducklings' suddenly seemed very appropriate. In season one, they were young, inexperienced, and naive. One of the most entertaining parts of the entire show was seeing how much they'd grown over the years. Chase and Foreman from boys to men, and Cameron from girl to woman.

"Hi." Cameron greeted. "Are you looking for your dad?" _I am never going to get used to this._

"Yeah, have you three seen him?" I walked into the differential room, letting the glass door close behind me as I peered through the clear wall into House's office. His blue backpack was sitting on his Eames chair where he had left it that morning, so I could only assume that he was still in the hospital.

"Not since this morning." Foreman was the one who answered. "If he's not with you, where have you been?"

"Exploring." I answered, not feeling like giving a blow by blow of my time. My early rising and lack of sleep from the night before had combined together, and I felt dead on my feet, and the idea of getting home and falling asleep on House's couch sounded very appealing.

"Nothing more fun than wandering around a hospital full of sick people." Chase said with a smirk as I looked back at the gathered ducklings. I chuckled a little at his comment.

"I have a weird sense of what's fun." I responded. "But, could one of you page House or something? I don't have a clue where he could be." Well, that wasn't true - I had many clues where he was, but most of the places he might be I didn't know how to get there.

"Sure." Cameron said, taking out her pager, but before she could do anything, House practically seemed to materialize at the door, Wilson at his side, dressed in his jacket and seeming ready to leave.

"Speak of the devil." I said, looking up at House as he came to stand beside me.

"You weren't in the lobby." he said.

"I got sidetracked." I told him innocently, and he snorted slightly as he turned to head into his office.

"Probably a good thing, since I wasn't there anyway." I smiled to myself as I followed House and Wilson. Apparently I wasn't the only one who got distracted today.

"He was too busy annoying me to pay attention to the time." Wilson explained.

"And here I thought he just had a fun day avoiding Cuddy." I commented as House grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"Her shrill cries always let me know that she's coming." House snarked before leading the three of us out of his office. "You three, go home."

"Do we have to be here tomorrow?" Foreman asked exasperatedly, glaring at House. "Not that I'm not looking forward to another day of sitting on my ass."

"Stay home, I am." House threw over his shoulder as he left the room. Wilson and I bade the ducklings goodnight before tagging along after House. Once the oncologist and myself matched House's pace, the two of them began discussing what movies to watch tonight.

And then I realized something... I was going to get to witness one of House and Wilson's boys' nights firsthand.

* * *

In what seemed like no time at all, I was sitting next to the two doctors on House's couch and being asked if I was okay with sausage, pepperoni, and extra cheese. I automatically answered with an affirmation. I was a teenager. Pizza kind of came with the territory. Hell, during finals week last year I was pretty sure my entire diet had consisted of Mountain Dew and cold pizza. I had gotten nearly perfect grades, so I guess the combination worked.

It looked like the movies for the night were a series of crappy Japanese fighting movies that I had never heard of, and then Die Hard as what House called a 'pallet cleanser'. I had never been one for movies, unless they involved an actor I preferred, but watching movies with the boys would just be part of the deal when it came to living in House land.

And, well... I was watching movies with House and Wilson and eating free food. Who was I to complain? I sat in between the two of them, and their crossed legs on the coffee table formed a fence around me. They laughed, drank beer, and essentially made fun of the terrible movies.

This was the kind of stuff I rarely saw on the show - just Wilson and House hanging out together, doing things that any pair of best friends would do. Conflict and drama made good TV, not things like this. It made pretty good real-life material, though. I felt oddly safe between the two men; the most comfortable I had felt since I had arrived in House's universe.

Yeah. It was just a night in front of the television with Daddy House and Uncle Jimmy. Nothing out of the ordinary... except for everything. But didn't a wise man once say that the ordinary was boring? That sounded like something House would say...

Somewhere between Bruce Willis sprinting into a hail of bullets and Wilson's snores, I fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

I woke up to a rather loud groan from beside me. I cracked open a reluctant eye, examining what had wrestled me from my comfortable slumber. House and Wilson, both victims of alcohol-induced dreariness, had passed out on the couch, and my own fatigue had gotten the best of me. I wasn't sure if the noise had come from House or Wilson, and then I also realized that House was a little too close for comfort; sometime while I had been asleep, my head had fallen onto his shoulder.

I usually wasn't much for physical contact with people I wasn't super familiar with, but with the palpable abscence of my father weighing down on me, it reminded me of being a little girl and falling asleep with my head leaning on my dad's shoulder as he read me a bed time story, and it was oddly comforting in a way.

Comforting aspect aside, it was still awkward as hell. I jerked my neck into a straight position, eliciting a loud cracking noise and sending a bolt of pain up and down my spine. I looked away from House, who appeared to still be asleep, so I looked to Wilson, who was curled into the corner of the couch, his head resting on the arm and his legs flung over the side, mouth slightly open.

Glancing back at House, I saw that the diagnostician's head was leaning against the back of the sofa, face much more peaceful than it ever was while he was awake. His cane was leaning against one of his knees, and his arms hung loosely at his sides.

The clock declared that it was nine thirty, and I groaned aloud. Too early, but it was Sunday. Unless I was deathly ill, I always went to church service on Sunday morning. I was never one of those Bible-beating, preachy Christians that thought anyone who wasn't as Godly and righteous as them was filth that was going to burn for eternity. I was never afraid to talk about my faith, but if it made people uncomfortable, I didn't push it.

I was devout without being a self-righteous jerk, something I noticed many people had trouble doing. Even in a different universe, it was all the same God - which meant I needed to take a shower and put on some nice clothes, then find myself the nearest non-denominational or Presbyterian church.

I slowly rose from the couch, stumbling slightly as blood rushed to my head. Ugh, mornings had never and would never be my thing. I stepped carefully over Wilson's legs and made my way to the bathroom, avoiding the mirror for fear of what my hair might look like at the moment.

After a quick, hot shower, I changed into the best pair of clothes I had bought on my little trip to the store the first day I arrived in House's universe. A white button-up short sleeve shirt coupled with black slacks was the best I could offer. Now the only matter was to find a church to go to.

When I came back out, House and Wilson were still snoozing peacefully on the couch. I headed towards House's computer, not really knowing any other way that I could find out where the nearest church was. I settled down in House's computer chair and logged onto his computer, obviously knowing the password from my previous adventures invading House's privacy. I got onto his web browser and began hunting around on Google for churches near the house.

I was disappointed to find that the nearest church was over an eight block walk away, and I would have to basically sprint to make it there for the eleven o'clock service. I sighed and stood up, resigning myself to getting some exercise. However, when I turned, I crashed into House's chest.

I stumbled back and looked up at the doctor, who was looking down at me with a hint of a smirk on his face. "So you're not just one of those Christmas and Easter Christians, huh?"

"Good morning." I said, backing up slightly. "And no, I'm an everyday kind of gal. I'll be back in an hour and a half or so, the nearest church is pretty far away, so I gotta go." I brushed past House, heading for the door and grabbing my coat off of the armchair I had laid it on the night before.

"Don't bother." House said, heading over to stand behind the couch and stare at Wilson's snoozing form. "I'll drive you."

I froze and looked at House, arching one of my eyebrows so high it nearly touched my hairline. "Uh... you're going to drive me to _church_?"

"A few more weeks and it'll be too cold for me to be able to ride my motorcycle. I was planning on going out for a ride today anyway, I might as well drop you off." House said with a shrug, and my eyes widened.

"Your m-motorcycle?" I stammered. "Um, House, I've never been on a motorcycle before, and they seem kind of dangerous-"

"What? Don't trust me?" House asked, cocking his head at me. His eyes seemed bright and alert, and I was surprised considering the time and the half empty bottle of scotch sitting on the kitchen table.

I didn't have a clue how to respond to his question, but thankfully he saved me from having to with a shrug. "If you want to freeze your ass off, it doesn't make any difference to me." he continued into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

"Well..." I did trust House, didn't I? I mean, sort of. Like, I trusted him with my safety. I didn't think he was going to go pulling wheelies or something while I was on the bike... _actually, he probably would do that._

I decided to file the complicated question away for later consideration. For the time being, I decided I could trust House not to kill the both of us.

"Okay, fine. I guess I don't have to leave for another few minutes then." I said, shirking of my jacket as I watched House hover over Wilson. He slowly uncapped the top of the water bottle, then tipped it and poured it over Wilson's peaceful, sleeping face. Wilson's eyes snapped open immediately, as he squealed from the sudden presence of cold water. He jerked and fell on his face and off of the couch, landing at House's feet.

House capped the bottle, expression impassive as Wilson glared up at him. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Sunshine." Wilson mulled over the word as he pushed himself off of the floor. "Other 's' words come to mind. Satan, perhaps... not sunshine."

"You flatter me." House said as Wilson finally managed to get into an uncomfortable sitting position, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palms. "I suggest you clear out now. Doesn't Julie make Sunday brunch around this time?"

Wilson checked his watch, and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Oh, crap." the oncologist launched up and began scrambling for his possessions that had been cast around House's apartment over the course of the night. His wallet, keys, coat, and cell phone were soon all clutched in his hands. His eyes were wild and his bronze hair was mussed and sticking up on the left side.

Poor Wilson.

"Okay... I think I've got everything." Wilson looked down at his feet, realizing he had no socks or shoes on. "No, no I don't."

House proceeded to the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards and occasionally glancing over at Wilson with some amusement as he searched the apartment for his shoes and socks.

"House, this isn't funny! Where did you put them!" Wilson shouted while going through House's hall closet.

"I didn't do anything with them." House claimed, finally managing to locate a box of cereal in the nearly barren cupboards. I wasn't much of a cereal person, so I had relocated to the kitchen table with a slice of cold pizza in hand.

"Did you check under the couch?" I called. I could hear Wilson's rifling halt, then footsteps as he darted back into the living room and got down on his knees in front of the sofa, scrambling underneath it. "You torture him so much." I told House through a mouthful of pepperoni and sausage.

"It's a staple of male friendship." House said, as if that explained everything.

"Yes, _teenage _male friendship." I emphasized. That, at the very least, was something I was an expert on. Aside from my best friend Maura, all of my friends were guys. It's not that I didn't get along with girls my own age; I just found them... boring. I just wasn't into the makeup, gossip magazines, and reality TV shows scene. It was easier for me to find guys who had the same interests as me, skateboarding, guitar, reading, etc.

"I'm in touch with my youth, what can I say?" House said as Wilson let out an exclamation of victory, holding his loafers and socks up. I gave him a thumbs up and House just snorted through his cereal.

A few seconds later, Wilson was finally put together and at the door. We said our goodbyes and he rushed out hurriedly to get home soon enough to appease his wife. I finished off my pizza and stretched, looking back into the living room and looking at the clock.

"We should probably get going." I said, looking at House. He rose as well, hand going to his thigh as he stood up. I knew mornings were hard for him, and I already felt guilty that he was driving me to church. "House, seriously, a motorcycle ride is probably the last thing your leg needs right now."

"God, stop being so good natured. I just ate." House said, heading towards the door and grabbing his leather motorcycle jacket from where he had laid it on the armchair where mine was as well. He picked it up and tossed it to me, and I snagged it out of the air. "Come on, wouldn't want to be late and have to face eternal damnation."

House opened the front door to the apartment, and I followed him out and down the steps. I shivered against the cold as we made our way to his motorcycle, which was parked right next to his car.

"House, it's really c-cold outside." I commented. "Are you sure you don't want to take the car?"

"It's warmer than it'll be a month from now. Might as well enjoy it." House flung a leg over the side of the bike, taking his helmet off of where it hung on the side of the bike and handing it to me.

Knowing House's lack of concern for his own safety, I accepted it wordlessly and put it over my head. It was a little big on me, but it warmed my face and protected it from the chilly wind, so I was grateful.

I gripped the sides of the bike and closed my eyes, a pit forming in my stomach as House started the engine of the bike. A split second later, the motorcycle lurched forward and we were racing through the early morning traffic of Princeton.

Even with my eyes pinched shut and my head down, it was still one of the most terrifying experiences of my entire life. What seemed to be years later, the bike halted, and I immediately clambered off and ripped the helmet off, gasping in relief. After I had regained my composure, I handed House his helmet back and tried to give him a smile.

"Uh, thanks for the ride, really." I thanked him, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"You look like you're going to throw up." House commented offhandedly as he fixed the strap of the helmet around his chin.

"Probably." I replied with a grimace. I glanced at the wooden front doors of the church, which a crowd of elderly folks was filtering through. "You know, you're welcome to come with me if you want."

I heard the bike rev behind me, and I had just enough time to hear House let out a brief laugh before driving off and becoming nothing more than a black speck in the distance


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_A/N: Sorry there's been a few weeks between fourteen and fifteen, a mixture of an injured middle finger and just a smidgen of writer's block caused the delay._

_Disclaimer: I do not own House MD, only Anya._

* * *

It felt good to be in church. It was something familiar, and it brought a certain sense of comfort to me. The sermon was about as boring as to be expected**, **the choir was decent, and the velvet pews were comfortable. It reminded me of the church I went to back home.

An hour later, I exited the front doors, crossing my arms against the cool November breeze as my eyes scanned the street for House. He was there waiting for me, blue eyes taking in the exterior of the church as he awaited my arrival. Huh. Getting driven around by House on his motorcycle... I once again got the feeling that all of this was just surreal.

I trotted up to the bike, lifting a hand. "Hey."

"Get your weekly dose of self righteousness?" he asked, by way of greeting. I rolled my eyes at him as I clambered on the bike, preparing my already speeding up heart and flipping stomach for the ride ahead. I really, _really_ wasn't a motorcycle fan.

"Of course," I replied. House unbuckled the helmet from his head and passed it back to me without a word. "Awfully noble of you," I commented.

"If one of us is going to fly off of this thing, it's going to be you, not me. Plus, I want to prove Cuddy wrong. I'm totally fit to be a parent," he revved up the bike without warning. I frantically finished buckling the strap and gripped the sides as House raced away from the curb. _Please don't crash, please don't crash, please don't crash..._

An indeterminable amount of time later, I was stumbling off of House's bike once more, and making a beeline to his apartment, wanting to collapse on the couch and nap. I had only gotten roughly four hours of sleep the night before, so I was running on empty, and have the fear of God being put into me by another ride on what I was now referring to as The Death Trap, I needed a rest.

A few moments later, we were back in House's apartment, and I threw of my jacket and flopped down on the couch, nestling my face into one of the cushions. The living room smelled like pizza. "I'm gonna take a nap," I mumbled to House as he walked in after me, snorting with amusement at my form sprawled out on the couch.

"You do that," was the last thing I heard before falling asleep.

* * *

When I woke up, the house was silent, and that led me to believe that House was absent. I peaked open an eye and looked around the apartment, and I heard and saw no signs of the doctor. I yawned as I slowly sat up, brushing my hair out of my face. Oh, that nap had definitely done me some good. I was actually fairly coherent now. Judging by the clock, about two hours passed since I got back from church.

I stood up shakily, stretching languidly. I peered into the kitchen and noticed a single note sitting on the table, along with a stack of bills and House's car keys. I raised my eyebrow at the sight. _No way... he wouldn't..._

Dear God. He left me a shopping list. He listened to me?

After I managed to get over my initial shock, I nabbed up the list and scanned my eyes over it. It was basic stuff that any household would need, along with a few things I already knew that House liked. At the very bottom, House had left me a solitary parting sentences before disappearing off to nowhere.

_"I don't want rabbit food."_

I was honestly glad House wasn't much of a vegetable man. I was more of a meat person myself, as well. However, I was disconcerted by the amount of trust House was showing in me. I hadn't even been living with him for a full week yet, and he had left me with what looked to be about one hundred and fifty dollars, along with the keys to his car. True, I had demonstrated irrefutable proof that I had knowledge of the past and future, but this was House we were talking about, a man who thought trust was a joke.

Something was up, but for now, I decided to just go with it. I grabbed the keys off of the table after carefully folding the shopping list and bills and placing them in my pocket. I raked a brush through my hair, not wanting to go out in public with bed-head (or couch-head?) before slipping my coat on.

The weather had warmed significantly since this morning, and the sun shined on my face as I stepped out of the apartment. It was still blustery, but for the time of year, it was fairly nice outside. Winter was slowly closing in, and I realized that I'd soon be experiencing my first New Jersey winter.

Well, I guess I'll be experiencing my first New Jersey everything,

I thought to myself as I unlocked House's car, sliding into the driver's seat and settling my hands on the wheel.

"I'm about to drive House's car," I said to myself, my fangirl side taking over for a moment. I adjusted the seat, as it was pushed back fairly far to accommodate House's lanky build. Where I was sitting now, I could barely see over the dashboard.

After scooting forward, and adjusting my side and rear-view mirrors, I was ready to go shopping. It seemed such a strangely adult thing to be doing. I had never been _grocery shopping _before. My mother had never trusted me with the responsibility, convinced that I'd buy nothing but snacks and forego the essentials. Okay, that was probably true at the time, but I was eighteen now, and if we were talking about maturity, I was the only adult in Taj MaHouse.

I pulled away from the curb, but the fact that House had placed such implicit trust in me was unsettling. Nice, I suppose, but unsettling nonetheless. Maybe it was a test? He leaves me the money and the car keys, and sees if I take off. Was House trying to prove whether I was trying to scam him or not?

But I had already proved that I clearly knew more about him than he had ever bothered to tell anyone... I had demonstrated that I knew the future when I told him what was ailing Rebecca...

I drove around aimlessly for a couple minutes, obviously having no clue where I was going. I knew the general direction of downtown and the more commercial center of Princeton, but I hadn't been paying close enough attention the other night when I went shopping for clothes and essentials, so I didn't really know where to start grocery wise.

Eventually I settled on a little market about four miles away from House's apartment. I pocket the cash, parked the car, and made my way into the small store. I noticed a grumbling in my stomach, and something my dad always said popped into my mind: never shop when you're hungry.

* * *

It was lucky that the trunk of House's car was fairly large, because I think I had enough food to feed an army. I had bargain shopped, and I made the money House had left me go pretty darn far, with about thirty bucks still left over. Overall, I thought my first trip to the store as a legal adult was a success.

I had bought everything on the list, plus stuff that we definitely needed that House had unsurprisingly overlooked. I also got a decent amount of snack food, something the kitchen cupboards severely lacked. Using my stored knowledge of obsessive House-fan knowledge, I managed to remember a few chip brands I saw House eating, and other things that I had a feeling the diagnostician wouldn't have any issue eating.

I figured as long as I stayed clear of healthy food, pickles, and tea, House would be pleased with the fruits of my labor. I needed to get back home fast, because my appetite was reaching the point where uncooked horse meat would have looked delicious. I had neglected to eat all day, something I frequently did. Don't misunderstand me - I loved food, but I was easily distracted and sometimes forgot to eat.

Now that I didn't have my mother hovering over me ringing the dinner bell and making most of my meals for me, I was going to have to start remembering to do things like that... oh, the woes of finally having to grow up.

After the groceries were safely stored in the trunk, I relocated myself to the front seat, turning the key in the ignition and hearing the roar of the engine. I felt a sudden tickle in my nose, and the next moment I let out a heavy sneeze. I scrambled for the latch to the glove box, seeking tissues, but as I did so, I felt something protruding from the bottom of the dashboard.

Wiping my nose on my sleeve, I let my curiosity guide my hand over the mysterious object. I unbuckled my seatbelt and crawled over the console to the passenger seat, ducking my head under the dash and trying to get a better look at it.

It was small, black, round, and hidden towards the back. It had a blinking red light on it. My inner conspiracy theorist immediately thought _bomb_, but then my inner not-idiot decided that was highly unlikely. I experimentally tugged on it, and it came of easily, having been held on only by a thin layer of adhesive. I turned it over in my hand. It was a small black box, and the only thing remarkable about it was the blinking light.

_Why would House have this in his car? And more importantly, what is it?_

And then it hit me.

_So this is a test._

Although I wasn't a hundred percent sure of its purpose, I had a feeling that this was a tracking device of some variety. That way, if I was really was a con artist of some variety and made off with House's car, he could get a GPS fix on it and get it back. This had been the final thing House needed to prove that I was being entirely truthful. If I returned the car, groceries in tow, he'd finally believe me, one hundred percent.

I threw the device out the window. If House was monitoring the thing, that should give him a scare, or at least confuse him. I wasn't exactly miffed at House for not trusting me - my story wasn't terribly believable, but hadn't I presented him with enough evidence by now?

I shook it off as I began the drive back to House's apartment. I wondered idly where the doctor was on this Sunday afternoon. I highly doubted that Occam's Razor had started yet, since Paternity had only ended on Friday. I could only assume that House was either taking a Sunday ride on his motorcycle, or palling around with Wilson.

Of course, he and Wilson had just spent the entire night together, so I wouldn't think they'd be eager to spend time with each other all day today as well. Or would they? As I had observed before, the show didn't really show the happy-sunshine moments with House and Wilson. If you were going strictly by the show, House and Wilson were always at each other's throats, and pretty much hated each other.

However, just being around them for the past week had shined a kind of light on their bromance that I previously hadn't seen - the part where they actually liked spending time together. Sure, they argued, but all the arguments between the two of them that I'd observed so far had been really stupid, silly ones, and for the most part friendly.

So, maybe they were completely inseparable in reality. I planned on further examining their man-love as the first season progressed, trying to determine what was like the show and what wasn't. I had to keep reminding myself that in general, House MD showed the most dramatic and intense moments of everyone's lives, with occasional humor thrown in. I needed to adjust a lot of my opinions according to how people actually acted.

A few minutes later, I was pulling up in front of House's apartment, and judging by the absence of House's motorcycle out front, he still wasn't home. I proceeded to unload the back, and carrying the groceries inside was a slow and arduous process. Once I had everything sitting on the counter of table inside, I began delegating where certain items should go. From what I could see of most of House's kitchen, there was no rhyme or reason to where anything went. It was time to play organizer and get things tidied up.

By the time five o'clock rolled around, I had designated an area for every type of food under the sun, minus vegetables, and the kitchen was now tidy and well-organized. I'd probably have House bitching at me for the next week because he didn't know where things were, but overall it would make everything easier. I knew that he didn't really like change, or people moving his stuff, but I figured since this was just food, he'd be okay with it.

My stomach growled rather loudly, having been mercilessly deprived of food all day, so I decided I might as well make dinner while I was here. I didn't know when House was coming back, but even if he didn't show up until much later, I could just save the leftovers of whatever I decided to make.

I began mentally perusing what I had just bought, and decided that I was capable of making some hamburgers. I was okay in the cooking department - I couldn't exactly make a four star meal, but I could make pretty tasty comfort food when I wanted to. So, I set about making dinner, enjoying the smell of cooking food spreading through the warm apartment. I turned on one of the music channels on the TV, then put the volume on loud enough for me to hear it over the sizzling burgers in the kitchen.

With the lights all turned on, the savory scent of meat, and the music in the background, I felt almost... comfortable? This was one of the first times I'd felt even vaguely at home in House's apartment. The whole week I had felt sort of like I did when I stayed the night at a friend's house. It wasn't until now that my whole mind was catching up with the fact that I _lived_ here.

I lived with Greg House.

Yep. Still not used to it.

I was interrupted from my domestic tasks by the sound of the front door opening. The burgers were almost done, and I had two buns sitting on the counter, waiting for the patties. I peeked my head around the wall, catching a glimpse of House's back as he took off his leather jacket. "Hey!" I called over the music.

House turned his head slightly, and nodded to me by way of greeting before smelling the air, not unlike a dog. "I detect... meat."

"Well, that would make sense, since I'm cooking meat," I commented, returning to my task. I turned off the stovetop and slid a spatula under both burgers, gingerly placing them on the open buns. "I'm actually done here. I didn't know what kind of toppings you want, so I didn't put anything on it."

House moved slowly into the kitchen, hand absent-mindedly massaging his thigh. I caught the almost unnoticeable furrow of his brows, and I had to suppress a smirk. House was probably very confused as to why I was here, and not sitting in some parking lot downtown. I had chucked the tracker-thing far enough into the nearby bushes that he would have had one hell of a time finding it, if he had endeavored to do so.

"Surprised to see me here?" I asked as I placed the pan and spatula into the sink. I cracked open the fridge and grabbed a slice of cheese, placing it on my burger and folding over the top. House scooted around me and grabbed a slice for himself, along with a bottle of beer.

House didn't respond, but instead headed into the living room, seating himself on the couch and throwing his feet up on the coffee table, his meal on a plate which sat on his lap. He glanced at me as I sat down on the other end of the couch.

"Should I be?" he asked, countering my question with a question. I just leveled a withering look at him as I bit into my burger. "You claim to have watched every juicy moment of my life, and you think I'd just trust you implicitly?"

"No," I said. "I was definitely suspicious when you just _left_ me the car keys. The money, for you, that's not a big deal - the car on the other hand, is. I figured it must have been a test or something, but I was still stuck on the fact that you would risk your car. Sure, you could report it stolen, but there's still no guarantee you could get it back."

"How'd you find the bug?" he asked before taking an experimental bite of his burger.

"It's actually nothing spectacular. I bumped into it when I was trying to find a tissue. I unstuck it from the bottom, hedged a guess at what it was," I paused as I began chewing on my own burger. "Tossed it out the window."

House didn't respond for a moment, focused on his dinner, which apparently he approved of judging by how quickly it was disappearing. "So... did I pass the test? Are we done with the games?"

He looked at me for a second, an almost-smirk on his face. "And here I thought you knew me."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_A/N: Thanks for all the feedback, follows, and favorites, everyone. They make my day. Also, a big thank you to my beta, Wolfpack pride. Sorry for the late posting, my real life decided to suddenly get really interesting yesterday. Very odd._

_Disclaimer: I do not own House MD. _

* * *

I was surprised after dinner that night with all the documents I would need to be enrolled in school, get my license, and get a job. I examined my new social security card, memorizing the number. I opened my mouth to ask House how exactly he had pulled this off, but decided that I was probably better off not knowing.

"Okay, I'll get online and see what I can find out about charter cyber schools in the area. We'll probably have to go to an enrollment event, but as long as there's one soon I can probably get into classes by the Monday after next." I said, handing the social security card back to House, whom I assumed would put it with my birth certificate and other significant documents.

"I hope by 'we' you mean you and your imaginary friend," House said, eyeing me from across the table. I sighed as I rose from my seat, making my way towards the sink and starting on the dishes from dinner. I had a feeling House wouldn't be too thrilled about this part.

"House, you're my 'father', remember? Wouldn't it be a bit weird for me to show up solo? Plus, even though I'm eighteen, I'm sure I still have to have an adult with me. Listen, my best friend Maura was in cyber school, she said the enrollment is really easy - we go, say why we're interested in cyber school, I pick my classes, and they give me a laptop." I furrowed my brow for a moment. "At least, that's how it is in Pennsylvania... eight years from now."

"They just pass out free laptops like candy?" House questioned dubiously. "Tax payer's money going to a good cause, I see."

"Well, keep in mind, laptops are kind of new now, but in eight years, they're old news. You're going to be blown away by some of the stuff they come up with in just the next decade." I stopped myself as I dried my hands on a dishtowel. "I shouldn't be telling you this. No more distant future talk - let's focus on next week."

"I'm not going," he said as I heard the fridge open behind me. "I'm a doctor. I'm busy saving lives, for God's sake!"

"Oh, the irony," I muttered, turning to face House as I leaned back on the counter. "House, you've got to play your part. I'll pretend I'm actually from this universe, you pretend you've been suddenly saddled with a teenager," I paused, tilting my head slightly. "Which, in retrospect, shouldn't be that hard."

House just rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the beer he had just grabbed from the fridge. "Fine, whatever. But if you try dragging me to any father daughter picnics, I'm kicking you out on the street, guardian angel or not."

"Agreed," I said, smirking slightly. "Look at this way, at least you don't have to tag along with me when I go job hunting."

"So, you really are getting a job?" House asked, lifting a thin eyebrow at me. I nodded.

"Well, yeah. I'm not going to just freeload off of you forever. It wouldn't be right," I answered with a shrug, taking a seat across from House at the table. "It shouldn't be that hard. I mean, I just go in, fill out a resume, and wait for the call."

House observed me for a moment before responding. "You've never had a job before, have you?"

"Uh, no. It's not that I didn't want a job, but..." I trailed off, scratching the back of my neck self-consciously. "I just wanted to enjoy my childhood, you know? Medical school was right around the corner, then being a doctor, and I wouldn't ever have another time where I could just sit around, watch TV, and play video games." I explained. It took House's smirk to make me realize what I'd just said. "I wasn't really planning on following your work ethic, House."

"I thought I was your idol?" House asked, putting a hand to his chest and adopting an expression of mock offense.

"I think 'hero' is probably the better word for it," I said, unable to help a smile from forming on my face. I pushed myself out of my chair, making my way into the living room.

"Kid," House called, causing me to stop and turn to the diagnostician. "Smile." He was holding up his cell phone, which was facing me. I grinned automatically at the camera.

"Why?" I asked through my teeth, not moving my lips. The flash went off and House lowered his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

"You need to have a photo for your fake driver's license," he explained. I blinked, not really knowing how to respond to that, so I continued on to the living room.

"What do you want to watch?" I asked, plopping down on the couch and taking custody of the controller.

"It's Sunday," House said, following me into the living room and plucking the controller on my hand. "Sex and the City is on."

I stared at House as he sank down onto the couch. "Are you serious?" A second later, the Sex and the City theme was echoing through the apartment, and I just shook my head and rolled my eyes. "Apparently you are."

* * *

Later that night, House seemed to tire of channel surfing, and moved to relocate to his room with a medical text of some variety. I called his name just before he closed his door. "House?"

"What?" he asked, turning to look at me.

"Can I play your piano?" I asked hesitantly, nervously playing with the edge of my shirt. He considered me for a moment before responding.

"Can you play?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm no Beethoven, but I'm okay."

House shrugged before turning away from me. "Go crazy," he told me before heading into his bedroom and closing the door.

So, crazy I would go. I vaulted over the back of the couch with a small smile on my face, making my way over to the beautiful instrument. I settled myself down on the bench, every moment I had seen House sitting here, both on the show and in real life, played through my mind.

I settled my fingers down on the keys, doing a few scales to warm up. I had played the glockenspiel in the school band, and from that I had easily learned how to play the piano. It was the same principal, only with fingers instead of sticks. I slowly eased into the few songs that I knew the entirety of. To quote Hugh Laurie, I could play the beginning of hundreds of songs, and I could play the ends of maybe two of them.

So, for most of the late evening, I enjoyed myself with the piano, occasionally singing quietly along with whatever I was playing. I didn't want to be too loud and risk House not being able to fall asleep because of the noise. I knew that he had a hard time sleeping; I didn't want to make it more difficult.

Around midnight, I started feeling tired myself, and it didn't help that most of the songs I knew were sweet and slow, and I soon found my eyes drooping. I yawned as I stood up and stretched, deciding falling asleep on the couch was preferable to passing out on the piano and drooling on the keys.

When I stood up, I listened closely to try and tell if House was asleep or not yet. There was no light coming from the bottom of the door, so I assumed he had gone to sleep early. "Night, House," I said quietly, before making my way to the couch, pulling a blanket over me, and drifting to sleep.

* * *

The next week was as interesting as the last, as I slowly but surely adjusted to living with one of the most enigmatic human beings I'd ever encountered. I became acquainted with the many moods, shades, habits, and mannerisms of Gregory House.

First off, the instances where he and Wilson lived together, in both seasons two and six, were not at all exaggerated. House really was a pig. I think the only reason the apartment stayed presentable over the years was Wilson occasionally tidying up while he was over. House's bathroom and eating habits left much to be desired. I nearly went swimming in the toilet on a daily basis, since House kept leaving the toilet seat up, and I don't think the man had ever been taught how to use a napkin.

He left beer bottles and empty glasses everywhere he went, crumpled up chip bags, and every other article of trash and refuse under the sun. I was starting to regret how much I had bought at the store, as I saw the remains discarded around the living room and kitchen. It was a daily struggle to keep the place clean, and I had to use all my willpower not to clean House's room as well, which I had yet to be inside. However, when the door was open, I could see rumpled laundry and books scattered about, with the bed in a constant state of disarray.

That's not to say living with House was all cons and no pros. Despite his god-awful hygiene habits, he was at least interesting to be around. On the first day of Occam's Razor, which began Monday when House arrived at work, I noticed that House had a PS2 slim tucked into one of his closets. I had chosen not to accompany him to work that day, intending to go job hunting, and not wanting to smother the diagnostician with my presence. I had also made my enrollment appointment with NJ Cyber, the statewide cyber charter school I planned on attending.

I had the PS2 set up in the living room by the time House got home, and demanded to know why he hadn't told me about it before. Thanks to my older brother, I had grown up playing video games, and House had a pretty decent collection going on.

"I barely use it. Wilson sucks at video games," House said as he shrugged off his coat.

"Yeah, but I don't. Come on. I'm challenging you to a _Street Fighter _tournament right now," I said motioning towards the two controllers. House contemplated my challenge for a moment before nodding.

"Fine, loser cooks dinner."

I cooked dinner that night. House was better than I expected.

The job hunt was tiring, but rewarding. The first day, I submitted a resume at Macy's and a cute little coffee shop only a block from House's apartment on Baker Street. I expected to hear back from them soon. It was nice to finally have something to be working towards, instead of just hanging around Taj MaHouse and trying to comprehend my current living situation.

Throughout the week, House consistently bugged me about the future and his current patient. I finally broke down that Tuesday over dinner. I had a feeling our video game challenges were going to become a daily event, and House said that as long as I kept losing to him, I'd be cooking dinner for him forever. After my second clobbering at _Street Fighter_, I had ended up making the two of us chicken noodle soup for dinner.

I set down my spoon, glaring at House over my soup. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

"Nope," House said, meeting my gaze.

"Fine, I'll placate you a little. How about I tell you the name of each episode? Will that keep you happy?"

"I'm _always _happy," House replied sarcastically. "Spill."

"This episode is called Occam's Razor," I told him. House's eyes drifted off, and he was strangely quiet for the rest of dinner, apparently trying to puzzle out how the episode title related to his patient's diagnosis. We were nearly finished when he spoke up again.

"So, tomorrow's your enrollment appointment," House said. "And I get to play the doting father."

"I'm sure you're overjoyed," I muttered as I picked up my empty bowl and House's as well, knowing that he wouldn't clean up himself. "Please, please just don't offend these people, okay? You've got all the fake stuff I need, right? Including report card from the last quarter of my junior year?"

"Yeah. I gave you all As, wouldn't want anyone to think I have an idiot for a kid."

"God forbid," I said, laughing slightly. "Okay then. We're set."

The next day, House called Cameron, Chase, and Foreman to let them know that he wouldn't be until a little later than usual, and they would have to handle Brandon on their own for a little bit. Thankfully, it had dropped into the thirties as November continued on, and House elected to take his car to the enrollment event, which was being held at a downtown Hilton.

When we arrived, a feeling of anxiety settled into my stomach. The chances of House actually behaving at this seemed... slim, to say the least. As we strolled through the doors, I saw the doctor glance around, taking in the other parents with their cyber school hopefuls.

Most of the kids looked... weird, to say the least. It was pretty common knowledge that most kids who went to cyber school were ones who couldn't handle the more social aspect of public school. There was a good amount of military kids as well, judging by the number of fathers with crew cuts.

"I'd say 'blend in', but since you're not an Army brat or a social disaster, I don't think you'll be able to pull it off," he said, glancing around as we made our way to the registration desk.

"Names, please?" the portly woman at the desk asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Anya Carhart and Gregory House," I provided. She quickly scribbled down our names on stick on nametags before offering them to us.

"You'll be meeting Mrs. Karol at table eight."

I grabbed the both of them and stuck mine on my chest, but when I went to hand House his, he just crumpled it up and tossed it into a trash can. "Trying to be mysterious?" I asked as we made our way to table eight. Before House could respond, the woman who was apparently Mrs. Karol smiled up at me.

"Hi, I'm Mrs. Karol," she extended her hand to House. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

House, unsurprisingly, didn't take her hand. "So, what's the application process here? Some rigorous test to make sure she can sit and stare at a computer for hours on end? Definitely not for anyone, it takes a certain kind of _talent_for a task that insurmountable."

Suppressing my urge to face desk repeatedly, I took my seat in front of the table, staring daggers at House. He followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly. His jibe seemed to have rendered Mrs. Karol somewhat uncomfortable.

"I think you'll find that NJ Cyber is not right for all students," she said carefully. "But let's hope Anya will feel right at home with us, yes?"

"Well, I would certainly hope so, since she'll be going to school from home."

I kicked House's good leg hard under the table, my silent gesture of_behave_to my antagonistic pseudo-parent.

"Here's my report card from my last quarter, as requested," I said, putting on a charming smile and handing the woman my fake report card. She peered over her glasses and nodded her head approvingly at what she saw.

"You have a 3.9 GPA. This is very impressive, Ms. Carhart," she said. "Now, why are you and your family interested in NJ Cyber?" she asked, handing me my report card back.

"I'd like to get a job, and if I go to cyber school, my schedule will be much more flexible," I answered automatically, having come up with this line of reasoning prior to the event.

Over the next thirty minutes, we discussed what courses I would be taking through NJ Cyber, after affirming that I indeed qualified for mid-term enrollment. In a surprisingly short amount of time, House and I were walking out of the Hilton, a student handbook tucked under my arm and a paper with my username and password written down, though they didn't provide me with a laptop. House had remained blissfully silent for most of the meeting, so he didn't insult Mrs. Karol enough to ruin my chances at enrollment.

I started that Monday, which was surprisingly quick. Overall, the day had been a success. When House and I got in the car, I gave him an odd look, curious as to why he hadn't said anything once we were free of the hotel. "House?" I asked, letting my concern show. _I guess he's decided to act like a mature adult, for once._

"Oh, sorry," House said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I just wanted to make sure my tongue wasn't bleeding from biting it so hard."

_But I've been wrong before._

* * *

_A/N: About the cyber school info, it's accurate for Pennsylvania, but I don't know about New Jersey in 2004. So, the magical fanfiction land law applies. Reviews would be loved. :)_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_A/N: As always, thank you all for the feedback and love, you're the driving force behind this fic, and thank you to my beta Wolfpack pride for helping lower the suck factor of the story. Also, sorry for the delayed update! RL is a little nutty right now._

_Disclaimer: Anya is mine, but the rest belong to David Shore and Katie Jacobs._

* * *

"Yes!" I jumped up and down as I slammed the phone down onto the receiver. "I am victorious!" I promptly began doing a happy dance, which was an odd pairing of the chicken dance and the electric slide. House eyed me like I was absolutely insane from where he sat on the living room couch.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked.

"I got the job at that adorable little coffee shop about a block from here, Ryan's," I explained, a grin plastered to my face. "I've got my first job. I feel so accomplished right now."

"You didn't find the cure to the common cold, you just turned in an application," House pointed out, taking a sip of his beer. I gave him a withering look as I settled down on the other side of the couch. Living with him for the past week and a half aside, I still didn't want to invade House's personal space.

"Thank you, I needed someone to send burning meteors towards my parade," I grouched, settling my legs on the coffee table. "I start next Monday, same day I start cyber school. I'll be working three to eight to start out, four days a week. If I do well, they'll take me on full time," I smiled broadly in spite of myself. "I've got a job!" I declared in a sing-song voice. House opened his mouth to say something, but I held up a hand to cut him off. "No. No more negative waves."

"Was that a _Kelly's Heroes _reference?" House asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I nodded. "I didn't peg you for the movie type, other than that stupid poetry movie you made me watch that alternate-universe Wilson was in."

"Okay, one, _Dead Poets Society _is not stupid. It's perfection. And two, there are lots of things you don't know about me, House**.**" I said, crossing my legs underneath me as I pretended to stare at the TV, while I watched House out of the corner of my eye.

"Please. You're an open book. You don't have the ability to lie, so you're not afforded much room for secrecy**.**" he snorted derisively.

"I believe it's been said that it's those that appear most honest that are often the exact opposite," I retorted, although I definitely didn't fit that saying. I was honest. If asked something directly, I almost always told the truth. That didn't mean that I wasn't a private person. I loved talking about somewhat shallow things, my hobbies and interests, or my friends and family, but I didn't discuss things from my past. I didn't discuss bad experiences. I pushed them to the back of my mind.

Of course, I really didn't want House to know that. He was stunningly uninterested in my life, a fact that I was perfectly okay with. If he thought that I had some evil, dirty secret or some other skeleton in my closet, he'd press me for details. I already had him hounding me for future information every five minute**s;**I didn't want to add to it.

House cast me a curious look, but to my great relief, he said nothing more.

* * *

On Friday, I managed to swindle House into letting me come to work with him. I mostly just bopped around the hospital, exploring and trying to memorize what wards were on what floor. It was enjoyable. Although the fangirl in me had settled down quite a bit as I adjusted to life in House's world, she wasn't dead yet. Every time I saw something I recognized from the show, or a particular moment played in my head because of my proximity, I had to suppress an embarrassing squeal.

I let House do his own thing throughout the day. House's patient Brandon was growing more critical by the minute, and I didn't want to distract him. We had eaten lunch together in the cafeteria, along with Wilson, but after that had gone our separate ways, much like last week.

I had seen Cuddy during my aimless wandering, and although she had glanced at me with a hint of disapproval, she hadn't stopped me, and to my knowledge she hadn't spoken to House. Hell, she may have looked at me like that just because I was related to House. In the early seasons, Cuddy seemed to have a distaste for House. And by distaste, I mean actually distaste, not unresolved sexual tension thinly disguised as distaste. Having watched the show from the beginning, I would have never expected them to end up together.

Around two thirty, I found my way to House's office, my legs tired and my mind numbed from hours without any human contact. Although pacing around the hospital was interesting, it did eventually wear on me. When I arrived, I saw that House and Wilson were sitting in House's office, so I guessed that House couldn't be incredibly busy at the moment if he had time to shoot the breeze with Wilson. _Of course, that's never stopped him before, has it?_

I pushed into House's office, catching the end of what Wilson had just said. "Beauty often seduces us on the road of truth."

"Oooh!" I exclaimed as I stopped beside House's recliner, which Wilson was currently occupying. "I remember this scene." Wilson raised an eyebrow at me, and House cast me an appraising look. "What? You've got some great quotes in this episode!" I pointed a finger at House. "Next you'll say, 'And triteness kicks us in the nads'".

"So true," Wilson commented, and House seemed apparently less-than-happy that I had taken the words out of his mouth. He turned his eyes away from me, focusing on Wilson as I leaned against the glass wall separating the differential room and House's office.

"And this doesn't bother you?" he asked, directing the question at Wilson. Although I remembered the more memorable lines of House and Wilson's current conversation, but I didn't remember what it was about, or where they were at in the episode at this point.

"That you were wrong? I'll try to work through the pain."

"I was not wrong. Everything I said was true. It fit. It was elegant," House said, leaning back in his office chair with a smirk playing on his lips.

"So..." Wilson trailed off.

"Reality was wrong," I finished for him.

"Reality is almost always wrong," House said, removing a bottle of vicodin from his pocket. As he unscrewed the cap, he glanced sideways at me. "You know what's going on, I take it?"

"Sort of. The cough medicine did something, right?" I asked. I remembered that distinctly from the season one episode, the cough medicine, that and the opening where Brandon fucked his girlfriend's brains out. However, I tried to block that part out. At the time I had watched the show, it had thoroughly disturbed and confused my nine-year-old mind. Okay, maybe I was a little too young for House during the first couple of seasons, but it didn't end up damaging my psyche too much... at least I didn't think that it did.

"Aggravated his condition, it's spreading. It must be in his blood," House answered, popping a handful of vicodin into his mouth, dry swallowing as usual.

"Lymphoma?" I questioned.

"I can't think of anything else it could be," Wilson responded. I remembered blearily that Brandon had originally been his patient in the clinic.

"Well, we foolishly ruled out lymphoma because his CT scan showed no adenophathy, CBC showed a normal diffen smear, bone marrow showed no-"

"Screw the tests, do an exploratory laporotomy and find out what's in there!" Wilson encouraged. I blinked, surprised by his response. I was forgetting that Wilson was a little more... I didn't really know the word for it, but Wilson was definitely different in season one in comparison with the other seasons. More reckless, definitely. Maybe it was just that he was younger, a little less worn down. He hadn't gone through his third divorce, his long stint living out of a hotel room, losing his girlfriend, and then subsequently watching his best friend destroy himself.

I wondered if Wilson would change as much if I managed to cut some of the tragedy out of his life. Obviously he and Julie were already doomed to fail, but the rest I could definitely try to interfere with. Especially the events at the end of season four.

"He's got no blood pressure, no immune system, and his kidney function is down the toilet. If we do surgery, he's dead," House argued, shoving his pill bottle back in his pocket.

"Yeah, you're right," Wilson said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stick with the wrong pill theory." There was a long pause as House stared at Wilson, fingers drumming on the side of his cane. A moment later, he took his phone off of the receiver and dialed a number. A few seconds passed, and whomeverHouse called picked up.

"I want you and Foreman to run an exploratory laporotomy on the patient," he ordered, and I guessed that the person on the other end was Chase, if my memory was serving me properly. "Oh, really? I had no idea. He's going to die either way. If we don't take this chance now, _he_won't have a chance." A brief pause. "Go. Do," House said with some finality, hanging up the phone. Wilson looked satisfied.

"Risk taking always has been your specialty," Wilson pointed out.

"That and crocheting," House muttered sarcastically. At that moment, his pager went off, and House rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. I'm off to see the wizard." He glanced up at me. "I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that you want to tag along?"

After I realized he was referring to the clinic, I replied. "I wouldn't mind," I admitted sheepishly.

"I think you might actually be House's polar opposite. Christian. Kind. Truthful. You love clinic duty," Wilson mused. "I don't know how you two are surviving living together."

"It's been an interesting experience so far," I said slowly, looking sideways at House, who was rising from his chair, handing going immediately to his thigh. "We haven't killed each other yet, so that's something, right?"

"'Yet' being the relevant part of that sentence," he emphasized, moving towards the door. "Come on, _assistant_. The mouth-breathers are waiting for us." I bade Wilson goodbye with a wave as I tailed House out of the office. A few minutes later, we found ourselves in the clinic.

"There's a patient waiting for you in exam room two," Nurse Brenda provided, and House groaned.

"Wonderful. Come on," he jerked his head towards exam room two. I followed behind dutifully, grabbing a spare clipboard I saw on the nursing station's counter, so I looked a little more official. I was surprised that no one questioned my presence, but I supposed that most of the nurses and doctors in the hospital had learned just to leave House to his own devices.

We headed into the exam room, and a nervous looking young man sat on the exam table, fiddling with the corner of his shirt. "How're you doing?" House asked, settling himself down on his usual stool, taking his Gameboy SP out of his pocket. I peered over his shoulder._ Metroid Fusion. Good game._

"Okay," the patient answered carefully.

"Great. I'm doing good, too. I get to knock off an hour early today. Know why? Because I kissed my boss' ass. You ever do that? I think she just said yes because she wants to reinforce that behavior. Wants me to kiss a lot of other people's asses, like she wants me to kiss yours. What would you want, a doctor who holds your hand while you die, or a doctor who ignores you while you get better? I guess it would particularly suck to have a doctor who ignores you while you die," he rambled, eyes fixed on his game. I remembered the quote at the end, one of the more memorable House sayings, but I still didn't remember the clinic patient.

"I should go," the man said quickly, making a move to get up. House waved him down.

"You think it's going to come out on its own? Are we talking bigger than a breadbasket? Because actually, it will come out on its own, which for small stuff is no problem. Gets wrapped up in a nice soft package and plop! Big stuff, you're going to rip something, which speaking medically, is when the fun stops," House advised, and the man's eyes widened in horror. Mine did too, but for completely different reasons.

_Oh, no, God! Oh, dear God in heaven! It's the MP3-player-up-his-ass-guy, isn't it? _A recurring theme in House seemed to be the fact that people tended to shove things in their orifices that most certainly did not belong there. The most notable being a zucchini, a D-cell battery, the cat, firetruck, and policeman stuck up a child's nose, and of course... the MP3 player.

"How did you...?" the man trailed off in shock.

"You've been here half an hour and haven't sat down, that tells me its location. You haven't told me what it is, that tells me it's humiliating. You have a little birdie carved on your arm, that tells me you have a high tolerance for humiliation, so I figure it's not hemorrhoids," he paused for a moment, finally looking up at the bewildered young man. "I've been a doctor for twenty years, you're not going to surprise me."

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that," I said quietly, and House shot an exasperated glance at me.

"Who is she?" he asked nervously.

"My assistant. Now, come on. What's vacationing down south?" House asked, his patience draining.

"It's... it's an MP3 player," he whispered, lowering his head as his cheeks flushed red. I cleared my throat awkwardly as House stared at him.

"Is it… is it because of the size? Or the shape? Or the pounding bass line?" House asked, and I face-palmed. The man quite obviously didn't address the question, but he did respond.

"What are we going to do?" he asked worriedly. _That's interesting. He used 'we'. I don't recall House or myself shoving an MP3 player where the sun didn't shine. _House glanced down at his watch.

"I'm going to wait."

"For what?" the patient asked. I sighed, the entire conversation finally coming back to me.

"He's going to wait," I glanced at the clock on the wall. Two fifty-five. "until three o'clock, and then he's going to leave you to his boss, in what I suppose is some juvenile form of punishment."

House continued playing his game, seemingly unfazed. "Don't worry. You'd rather have her than me anyway," he looked up at the patient and waggled his eyebrows. "Supple hands. Like a baby's bottom."

I gagged.

The next five minutes passed by as House pointedly ignored the patient, who was nervously glancing at the clock every fifteen seconds, and I pondered on how to go about asking the guy why he would shove the MP3 player up his ass. I finally decided just to take the House approach, just as the clock hit two fifty-nine.

"Okay. I have to know. _Why_?" I asked, directing the question at the young man. He looked at me for a long moment before sighing.

"It was a dare," he said. "My buddies and I got kind of drunk last night, and we played truth or dare... and..." he motioned to his hind-end. "I don't even remember half of what happened."

"Oh. Alright. Well, that's a significantly less disturbing explanation than I thought I was going to receive," I admitted.

"It's also probably a lie," House said, standing up and grabbing his cane from where it leaned against the nearby counter. "Regardless, we're out of here. Have fun with Dr. Cuddy. Give her my best." He gave the patient an exaggerated wink before departing the room, and I followed close behind, shooting a sympathetic look to the guy before the door closed.

"You know, something just occurred to me," I told House as he made his way back to the nursing station.

"Okay, it's three o'clock, I'm off. Tell Dr. Cuddy there's a patient in exam room two that needs her attention," he instructed Brenda, handing her the patient's file he had taken earlier. "And the RIAA wants her to check for illegal downloads," he cracked, smirking at his own joke. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "And what, pray tell, occurred to you?"

"Why does Cuddy make you do clinic duty? All you do is piss people off, and you could be accomplishing a lot more doing pretty much anything else. I get that she's short handed, but with the amount of law suits, bad PR, and human resources disasters you manage to create in here, it would make more sense to keep you as far away from the clinic as humanly possible," I reasoned. Why had I never thought of this before? I supposed I never put much thought into it. On the show, House's clinic duty was kind of the comic relief - but now that I was living, I realized how asinine it was that Cuddy had him down here.

House scoffed in response. "Hell if I know. I've been telling her the same thing for years. I think she forces me down here just to remind me that she can," he said, grabbing a red lollipop from the jar on the counter, promptly popping it in his mouth. I opened my mouth to say something, but was cut off by the arrival of an out-of-breath Cameron.

"Brandon's not ready for surgery," she said without preamble.

"Okay, well, let's leave it a couple of weeks. He should be feeling better by then. Oh wait, which way does time go?" House retorted sharply.

"He crashed during prep. He's also experiencing pain in his fingers. I think some bug may have gotten in the clean room. I think we should double his dosage of GCSF to temporarily boost his blood cell count," she suggested, worry creasing her thin brow. _GCSF... what does that stand for again? _I was drawing a blank.

"Pain in the fingers. Right," House sighed, withdrawing the lollipop from his mouth, which had been reduced to a nub, and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. "Great. Here comes the fun part."

"Fun part?" Cameron and I questioned simultaneously.

"Oh yeah," he grunted, moving past the two of us and in the direction of the OR. "Now I get to tell his mommy and daddy that their precious little boy is doing drugs."


End file.
